A Moi
by Kerberos314
Summary: One war ends, another is always close behind. It is his goal, his purpose to stop that. He succeeded once, can he do it again? It's the world-the whole world this time- against him. Few old friends left, new ones, strange and unscrupulous, but he has no choice but to trust them. They are Legion. So is he. This isn't the Shinobi world. This is Afghanistan. This is where it starts.
1. Creve

**Holy hell. It has been a rough couple of months, let me tell you. I thought I was done with the bullshit when school was over, but when it rains, it pours, no?**

 **Anyway, this is an idea that has been kicking around in my head for a while, and I just needed to get it down so that I could actually tear my mind off of it. Maybe now I can actually get back to relaxing and watching season 4 of RWBY.**

 **That being said, it is a product of many years' fleeting thoughts and ruminations, as well as intermittent weeks of actual writing that were prolonged by constant interruption. So, in other words, though I tried, it might still have the same incomprehensibility as my other story. Tough. You don't have to ready it.**

 **Also, this is going to be (if I continue it past the first chapter. That will depend on response and basically whether or not I feel like it) a VERY different Naruto story. That usually happens when you try to blend that universe with reality, but I thought I would give it a shot. My forte and self-declared passion is military history, focusing on 1946- present day, and so something like this was inevitable. It will be very much focused on real events and situations. To that end, obviously I had to "nerf" as people seem to like to put it, Naruto and his cohorts down quite a bit. Exactly how I intend to do this will be explained over the course of the story, but in the prologue here I give a very strong hint, just short of spelling it out.**

 **Basically, premise is the Shinobi nations were 'discovered' by the rest of the world. How they were able to remain hidden will be elaborated upon, and actually be a plot point in the story later (not much) on. This happened during the battle between Naruto and Madara, and exactly how it went down will also be elaborated on. Now Shinobi must learn their place in the greater world, and band together into one country to make this happen, and to survive amidst other nations who could potentially nuke them off the map.**

 **I am trying to make this realistic, but also entertaining, so to that end any thoughts and comments, as long as they are constructive, are always appreciated. I am including notes which help expand on the history of something when I feel it might be beneficial. But really, nothing is that necessary. You can easily just read this as a pure work of fiction and go with the flow for everything that is written here. I will also translate when I feel it is necessary, but again, mostly go with the flow. I am not a master of languages, and to reach a wider audience I am writing in English, even though the majority of this would obviously be in French and Japanese (among others). But I do know some, and include it when relevant. If it reads like an insult in the context of the text, it probably is. If you really want translations, I'm 99% sure that they can be found on Google, or you can PM me. Frankly, I think anyone who is actually able to stomach this horseshit has earned the right to PM me.**

 **Until we meet again in the Bardo~**

* * *

"Maa, maa, calm down everyone, settle down now. Ahem, sorry, it's been a while since I have had to do anything like this. And, let's be frank, there really hasn't ever been a moment quite like this one. We are standing on the edge here; we've made it to the top, where we have always wanted to be. But we have to be careful both of falling backwards or going over the edge. The Shinobi Nations have come together in peace at long last. It may have only been a tacit alliance at first, uniting together to defeat a common enemy. But we cannot back down from where we are, what we have achieved. Especially now. Now that we know we are not alone. Now that there are many, many more eyes watching us and we are but a small part of a complicated whole. We risk being marginalized or worse if we descend to factions once again.

It's not going to be easy. There's going to be a lot of issues no matter what we do, and most of them we're not going to be able to anticipate until they are right upon us. I don't pretend to have all the answers…. Ok, I don't have any at the moment. But they will come in time, as long as we can work together to guard against the very extinction of our kind. Because, let's be honest, that's what we are facing here. The system of hidden villages that we have kept as status que for generations cannot exist as it is within a global context.

Not that it has to be all bad. Like I said at the beginning; we are standing at the top looking over the edge. We are above the clouds and can see farther than ever before in every direction. Our future is out there, but only if we don't backslide. I never imagine having kids. But if I did, I think that this would be a great time to have them. The generations that we foster from henceforth will never know war like we have. It is my hope that they will only read about it in books that they are taught in academies. Normal academies that never see a blade within their halls. That can focus on the restorative teachings of Ninshū, instead of Ninjutsu. So that we might cultivate a world of peace, rather than carve out our place in it.

Of course we are a long way off from this. But not that far, because it is right now we have to make the choice: continue to bicker and fight amongst each other, or show the other 99% of the world that we are more than dogs fighting over the last scraps of food. Everything we do now will define us in their eyes. We are joining their game, and are subject to their rules whether we like it or not.

But despite this we cannot forget who we are. This is the other unfavorable outcome of cooperation. Not with each other but with the rest of the world. Because it is their game, and they have been playing it far longer. It is my hope that as nations which have shared a common history for so long, we can work together to preserve this history for those generations which will never become shinobi, they can at least know where they came from and be proud of it, be proud of us.

Maybe the founders of our villages would think us trash for breaking the rules they laid down centuries ago, made to foster our growth and protect us from hardship. But if we do not, we will be abandoning the future generations to a world of continuing violence at best, and at worst a peaceful world built on the death of the shinobi nations. And then we will be even worse than trash."

-Rokudaime Hokage Hatake Kakashi at the World Kage Summit, Konohagakure [Former Capital Hi no Kuni Nation State] 1447th Year of the Rikudo Sanin (A.D. 1997)

* * *

"As the President of the United Nations, I would formally like to welcome the representative of the Shinobi Nations Confederacy and thank you for you and your country's contribution towards the furtherment of international democracy. To history this may just be another step in the right direction, but for us in the here and now this is fundamental proof that the world is getting smaller. We know that your people have overcome many great difficulties recently, both in regard to the foreign threats as well as internal struggles against the transition towards peaceful elections. But being here today, as you are, should be demonstrated as a great example of human kind's ability to surmount prejudices of the past. Congratulations, and thank you."

President of the United Nations Hennadiy Udovenko (Ukraine), July 12th 1997, 11th Emergency Session

* * *

"… _And now we're back. In case you're just joining us this past hour, let me re-cap: we just got done talking with Dr. Laurence Kaufner who gave us a first-hand look at the worldwide scientific phenomena that was the discovery of the Shinobi Nations. As one of the first civilian foreign scientists to gain access to the Nations, Kaufner provided us a brief rundown on how the Nations were able to stay 'hidden' for so long, as well as how a sub-species of humans managed to evolve right under our noses and how we as a species might eventually reverse engineer this to the benefit of all those currently incapable of using 'chakra'._

 _Now, though, to talk about the political ramifications of this discovery and to help us make sense of all the recent events which have transpired back-to-back in these recent years, we have Dr. Karen Zykla, who served as primary liaison with the Shinobi Nations Confedarcy for the first 12 months after establishing contact. She also has a PHD in poly-sci and is an expert linguist who worked on the etymological ramifications of the stagnant form of Japanese they have traditionally spoken. Glad to have you on Karen."_

" _Thanks Barbara. It's a pleasure to be here, and to be talking about my small part in one of the most fascinating subjects in our day and age."_

" _I'm sure. Anyways, why don't we get right into it, almost everyone out there already has a pretty good understanding of how the first contact went down and they saw their first glimpse of a Shinobi National on Public television not long after that. It was quite a surprise for us, but It was a turbulent transition for them, though, wasn't it? Suddenly they're the little fish in the pond and have to play catch-up with the rest of the world both politically and technologically?"_

" _Yes, it really was an amazing accomplishment how they managed to unite themselves from warring city-states to a functioning republic practically overnight, with very little public backlash. There is talk of a central figure who played a key moderating role in this, but when the political talks started happening, all the focus changed to that and trying not to misunderstand one another- certainly a crucial thing especially when you consider nuclear weapons were on the table. Though it isn't that hard to comprehend, looking back on it. As you say, they found their way of life threatened, and if there is one thing to take away from this little talk is that the Shinobi as a culture are practical if nothing else. Though I can tell you from working with them, past animosities weren't thrown away overnight, once they began working together nothing much could stand in their way."_

" _Yes, they already had sort of a natural advantage, didn't they? And so adapting to modern technology, especially modern weapons was almost second nature to them."_

" _Absolutely. You could even say they were bred for warfare. And since most of our modern tech was spawned on the battlefield, it wasn't hard for even the most layman among them to pick up on the benefits, potential applications."_

" _And at first it seemed like that was going to be a huge asset for them. I mean, from our perspective they showed up on the scene at the perfect time."_

" _It looked like that at first, yes. Once they joined the United Nations it was sink or swim. They had very little to offer the rest of the world. They have some known geological resources, but most of that is still pending study, so the only thing they had in demand was manpower. Cunning bureaucrats cut a deal, and suddenly Shinobi Peacekeepers were everywhere, Congo-Brazzaville, Zaire, the CAR, Sudan, West Bank, the Balkans (1). They were a show of force in Kuwait when Saddam started to raise his head again. Closer to home they were in Cambodia, Myanmar-"_

" _Cambodia, wasn't that where one of those Shinobi monks halted a Thai mechanized column at the border?"_

" _Exactly. Like I said, the Shinobi are practical. They already had their own branches of monks which they sent in to Cambodia, and the Cambodians took to them right off. Buddhism is an integral part of that culture, but more as a spiritual lifestyle, so any differences were easily ignored in favor of the obvious benefits they provided (2). They were able to help facilitate construction as well as humanitarian efforts, and they didn't need any military guards so they were able to integrate into the society."_

" _Didn't they see them as gods? Even now as educated people talking about it, it's hard not to."_

" _To a certain extent, yes. But I'm not here to talk about the religious and racist fallout from the discovery, I believe that's your next guest."_

" _Absolutely, carry on."_

" _Thanks. Anyway, suffice to say that the people of the region really took to them. It wasn't hard for them to adapt to the language either. Cambodian has the most vocalized sounds out of any language and Vietnamese and Thai aren't far behind. Japanese-even an archaic variety was a cinch."_

" _I'll take your word for it."_

" _Anyway, they gained some massive support there, and soon the entire region adopted their way of life as best they could, not having access to Chakra, obviously."_

" _Alright then, now here is what is probably confusing to most viewers, because pretty much everyone has the story to this point. The Nations come out of nowhere, like superheroes or gods, go around spreading peace and prosperity, winning a whole bunch of local support, and then all of sudden they shut themselves back up again and are pretty much on the outs with every major Western Power. How is that?"_

" _Well, you see, it's just because they were everywhere, because they were so effective. They were so eager to spread their relatively new peaceful beliefs to the world that kind of set them up for their downfall. Like I said, Shinobi Peacekeepers were everywhere. And in general the people loved them. The UN forces went from being le Casques Bleu, to le Chéché (3) Blue, in deference to the blue headbands. The Shinobi didn't carry firearms at first, either, and that made them especially approachable by the civilian populations."_

" _That didn't last long, though did it?"_

" _No, unfortunately. They were good at their jobs. Perhaps too good, and that is why local factions began to focus on them. All the radical groups had their power undermined at a very basic level. US Marines? French Paratroopers? British SAS? Forget it. Shinobi became everyone's #1 enemy. That's when they started getting targeted, and well, it's kind of hard to take the warrior out of the shinobi. They responded in kind, so the groups all around the world upped the ante. The knives they carried didn't do the trick, and so they started pulling out some of their Jutsu. Suddenly these techniques which helped build houses, water crops, heal the sick, were causing untold amounts of collateral damage in crowded city streets. No one had seen anything like them before. They didn't know how to deal with them."_

* * *

Part II Section 4 – Hague Convention April 28th 1998 on Revised International Code of Conduct for Warfare (4)

Henceforth all physical/spiritual abilities falling under the above descried category of Ninjutsu/Ninshū shall be subject to the same regulations as previously agreed by the member nations for both small arms and weapons of mass destruction.

All procedures listed among the Shinobi Nations Confederacy Scroll of Forbidden Techniques are deemed cruel and unusual under the previous regulations and are considered war crimes to be prosecuted in the International Criminal Court (Hague, Netherlands).

All further derivatives of the enumerated techniques as listed above are also considered Forbidden and thus illegal under this treaty.

Any Ninjutsu/Ninshū technique which reverses and/or negates the state of death shall be considered Forbidden techniques.

Any number of additional techniques may be considered for inclusion into this list after formal review under the Special Council for Chakra Warfare, detailed in Part II Section 7

 _Go where no other traveler has gone before._

 _See a virgin land untouched by the modern hand._

 _A land forged through centuries of careful cultivation, incredibly preserved._

 _Taste local cuisine unlike anything else._

 _Whatever climate suits you, from lush forests, to pristine snow peaks, to gorgeous beaches which stretch on and on, we have it here._

 _Never a land so beautiful,_

 _Never a land so peaceful,_

 _Never a land so friendly,_

 _Wherever your path takes you, let your airline take you here._

 _-Rikūdo Airlines, the only one of our kind_

* * *

Memo: To the Prime Minister of the S.N.C. from the desk of Inoichi Yamanaka, Head of Internal Security, Fire County, Konohagakure.

Prime Minister,

I take it upon myself to write you directly because I do not believe that any of my previous messages have managed to convey the severity of the situation that has arisen in the past few months.

Though you continue to publicly maintain that the recent uptick in crime in our region is due to local negligence, my own included, I must point out that the sheer number of incidences does not support this theory. The fact is that there are simply too many ex-shinobi without stable income, and with no local industry to support them, they are turning to crime in order to feed themselves and their families. The jobs sectors which have grown to support the influx of foreign nationals, including the scientific and tourist sectors, are not enough to offset this unemployment.

Our current budget is also too small to properly deal with these disillusioned groups. We have too few shinobi patrolling the streets, and they are underpaid as is. Most of the law-breakers they come up against are veteran shinobi, and so our recruits are unwilling to apprehend them either out of fear, or respect.

Quite simply Prime Minister, the situation is untenable. The problem is endemic in Konoha, but there needs to be a major growth of industry nationwide in general. As it stands now, it will only be a matter of time before these out of work ninja become totally opposed to the democratic government and will attempt to overthrow it. It may be an imperfect solution, but opening up our services to the world powers as peacekeepers once again, even though we would necessarily have to abide by their rules, would at least offer a temporary relief by occupying these listless groups. It would feed and house many hundreds of thousands who would otherwise grow hungry and bitter at this, our hard-won peace.

With all due respect, your faithful servant,

Yamanaka Inoichi

* * *

"… _And of course, the United Nations foresaw this problem, didn't they?"_

" _Well, it was hard not to. The Shinobi Nations were created on the mercenary model, and what could be worse for worldwide political stability than an enormous amount of professional soldiers for hire? This also came in the wake of the political fallout from the Executive Outcomes scandal (5), which proved that a small but elite force could drastically change the outcome of a full-scale conflict. So the UN came down hard on mercenary groups, tightening regulations to the point where it barley became legal to even operate one."_

" _They had to do it that way because they couldn't outright say: no shinobi mercenaries, because of the racist connotations, correct?"_

" _Yes, exactly. So suddenly operating as mercenaries became a war crime, essentially. And no one in their right mind would want to incur the wrath of major powerhouses such as the US and Russia, who were adamantly in support of the UN decision."_

" _Now what about the US and Russia, and other Western nations for that matter, wouldn't they have wanted to have a force like the shinobi on their side?"_

" _Yes, this is an especially difficult question to address. Mostly, it's a matter of pride. If any one of the parent countries adopted a shinobi force, it would have said that they were either admitting they were superior, or worse, scared of them, and that would be political suicide one way or another. Then again, military tradition rears its head. The military industrial complex has always been opposed to change."_

" _But it was a foreign tradition that pretty much save the Shinobi, right?"_

" _Exactly, this is where the French come in. The French have always had that obstinate streak where they don't expect to follow everyone's rules. It was just lucky for them that they already had an institution already set up to accept foreign nationals into their service. La Légion Étrang_ _è_ _re, the French Foreign Legion has been around since 1831, specifically set up to take in criminals and rejects and have them fight for France. Boom, there you go, low-paid expendable army. You do your 3 years service, you get a French passport with a new name. A new life (6)._

 _Lots of Shinobi leapt at this chance when they found it. It was a windfall for them. Suddenly the Legion's ranks went from 7,700 full time soldiers to levels not seen since the Indochina war, what's now Vietnam. 30,000 plus. And once other nations saw the opportunity, they jumped at it if they could. Spain reinstituted the 'Foreign' aspect of their legion. And Russia, well, they never did really care all that much."_

" _But if I understand correctly, the reason the French Foreign legion was so large back then was because they were busy fighting a war. This was peace."_

" _True. Indochina was 1946, right after WWII, so you had a very similar situation back then. And yes, during the high period of inflation and unemployment in the SNC, no major battles were being fought by Western nations, so to us it looked like peace. But that was why the war on terror, the Twin Towers coming down, may have been a tragedy on par with Pearl Harbor here at home. But for the Shinobi Nations, it was VE day (7)."_

* * *

To the President of the United States in regard to the proposed allied invasion of Afghanistan,

Mr. President, the Shinobi Nation Confederacy is very much honored that you would come to our remote and humble country to ask our assistance in this endeavor. Thus it is my regretful duty to inform you that after much deliberation we must decline to participate.

Why you ask? We as a nation do not see a need to invade another's land when we ourselves were not attacked. Furthermore, our intelligence is advising, as we believe yours is as well, that the attacks carried out on your Twin Towers were not perpetrated by nationals of the Afghan Nation (8). We see no evidence that Afghanistan is harboring any intention to attack either us or our allies in the near future. We also do not understand your justification for our participation. 'If you are not with us, you are against us.' This phrase does not make sense to us.

Why you ask? Often in our history we have been forced to work alongside traditional enemies in order to complete the assigned mission. Such as we are now. It seems to me, as it is indeed the general opinion of our nation, that despite the technological strides made by other countries, that in general the world could learn a lesson from our humble nations.

We have sent generations of our sons and daughters off to die only for the violence to continue. We have much the same saying as you in the West do. In peace, sons burry their fathers. In war, fathers burry their sons. I have a son, as I know that you have two daughters. I hope that you share in my sentiment that I would rather have them mourn us than the other way around.

With all due respect,

Shibi Aburame

Minister of Foreign Affairs, Shinobi Nation Confederacy

* * *

"Turn that fucking thing off."

"Huh? What's the matter? Great-and-Powerful War Hero Shinobi can't handle T.V.? Too complicated for you? Hey, now! I'm trying to learn about your species before they go extinct you know, get educated so when I get out of here I can get a real job."

The speaker tapped his buzz-cut head with the remote control to emphasize his assertion, though it was fairly clear by the haughty smirk on his face that he was anything but sincere. Though in his mind he had earned the right to be. He was one of the few non-shinobi to make it past selection. The Legion did not discriminate. If you got the job done, that was enough. When more recruits started to make it past basic training than they had room for, they made the tests harder. Whoever was left had earned the right to be as arrogant as they wanted. They were the best.

Some better than others.

"Woah!"

For a Westerner, American most likely, the man holding control of the remote had fast reaction time, yanking back the device in his hand before one of the many Shinobi expats present decided to try and take it from him. He taunted the rugged looking youth when he caught nothing but air.

All around the room tensions dripped like sweat. A fight was imminent. The one in the corner stood up. The American saw this, pulled a knife. A tiny thing, hardly worthy of the name. But he was not above such tactics to achieve victory, and from what he heard, neither were Shinobi.

Victory was not his however, as he quickly found himself empty-handed once more.

He turned around to face the one who swiped the remote, knife hairsbreadth away from tasting flesh. Only to come face to face with a wall of muscle, another non-shinobi, and someone that would probably laugh at a wound made by the 3" dirk in his palm.

"Je veux regarder des desseins animés."

Manu. 187cm, 103kg and clearly a beer drinker. Belgian, and one of the few lucky enough to come in knowing French (9). Also one of the lucky few to make it past selection.

He sat on the decrepit couch and it sagged and groaned in protest. The American tucked the knife away, slunk away without another word. In the dark corner where a game of cards was being played, the one who had ordered the boob-tube be extinguished nodded in thanks to Manu, sat back down in his stool. Manu did not even look at him. They went back to playing cards.

It was hot. Tempers were short. But that wasn't the only reason he couldn't stand listening to the television.

Three of the four playing the card game had been Shinobi. The fourth was Afrikaner (10), but they all spoke in English. English was quickly becoming the de facto international language. The Shinobi Nations quickly learned that in order to get anything done, from political deals to peacemaking, the language barrier needed to be crossed. Money and cartoons also had their part. But not in the Legion. Still, for those recruits, learning French was the least of their worries. For some, it was the grueling days ahead of them. For others, the days left behind.

"Touchy subject?"

The vocal Shinobi glared at him while the other two stared at their cards. The Afrikaner shrugged his shoulders and did the same, ignoring the look. He knew enough. More importantly, he knew better than to press.

They all had their reasons for being there, in that unadorned concrete blockhouse outside of Calvi in Corsica. And it was not just because that was where they received their basic training. Not because they wanted to become paratroopers and jump out of planes. Most people didn't join because they wanted to become something. They joined because they wanted to quit being something else.

Because when they were there, they were no longer Belgian, American, South African, Dutch, Rock-Head or Tree-Hugger. They were Legion.

They were nothing.

"Levez-Vous!"

Everything was dropped and everyone shot to their feet within the second. Even the lump of flesh, Manu.

The drill instructor sauntered in. They knew his name, but it didn't matter. He was big, and black. Congolese, though that didn't matter either. What mattered was that he was the commanding officer. To them, he was sir, nothing else. And he was the devil.

He glared at the Shinobi in the corner, at the American who had been sulking on a stool with a beer. He looked at them, he flicked his square chin, they ran to stand at attention. He stared at them a long time, hoping to make them nervous. Glassy marbles boring into their skulls as they stood in silence. It was working.

"Chiens bêtes. A month in and you are still arguing like children?"

He knew, that they did not know French particularly well, apart from the insults. He was fine redressing them in any language.

"Nous-sommes désolés Capitan!"

"Morons! Baka!" He had even picked up some of theirs.

He swiped at them with his meaty palm like a baseball mitt. Two smacks, they both staggered but immediately went back to attention.

"Les deux, the two of you, full marching order. You! Bring them the 'packs'."

They saluted their superior officer without a word while the one playing cards ran off to get the two of them the 'packs'. A typical disciplinary device in the Legion. Regular issue rucksacks fully loaded, only with wire instead of shoulder straps.

"You're going to be running laps."

"Around the base?" He glared at them, as if at a joke in poor taste. "Sir?"

"No. Hauts-Corsica." The old department term for the entire upper half of the island. Still they didn't say anything.

The Afrikaner came back with the packs holding them like sacks of flour. He threw them to the ground in front of them. The two under scrutiny picked them up without hesitation, which would have only made the punishment worse. They moved to begin their death march.

"Arretez!" They stopped.

"One month. Un mois. No boots."

They paused, shared a look that was both anger and fear, bent down and undid the buckles and laces.

"Faster! Vite!" They did.

They were out the door to the rec room at a light trot, already feeling the wires dig in their shoulders.

"Allez-vous! Allez, allez!" He was chasing after them. A Water Buffalo. Black death. They ran.

Out the gates. Legion motto emblazoned overhead, shining hot in the afternoon sun. Marche ou Crève (11).

March or Die.

So they did.

They marched, double time, but a steady pace that they could have kept for hours. They had to. All day, and well into the night. Feet bleeding, pack-straps digging into shoulders, hot, too hot even now. Concrete road. Humid as hell. No shirt. No shade. No breath, exhaustion. Total exhaustion. Full moon, gates glittering up ahead, shining off letters. Words. The other Legion motto.

Honneur et Fidélité. Honor and Loyalty.

"Fuck!"

The American tripped. Went down, hard. Tried to brace himself, didn't. Elbows, face hit. Blood, a lot, not visible in the darkness. But he could smell it behind the saltiness of the sea air.

The Shinobi stopped. Looked back. Sapphire eyes like stars in the night. The American was trying to get up, and failing. His own pack was so heavy. The gates were still kilometers away. Fuck it.

He grabbed the groaning man. Boy. Barely older than him. Threw him over his shoulders, pack and all. Slick, blood and sweat. Stagger on.

"Oh, fuck! Fuck! What the hell do you think you are doing you crazy bastard?" Animosity gone, anger too. The Shinobi didn't answer. Looked at him. It was a strange view, upside-down. But clear. Anger. Passion. Determination. Camaraderie.

He shut up. They plodded forward.

The drill instructor was waiting for them. How he knew, they wouldn't guess. The Shinobi collapsed to his knees, two other recruits ran over and helped him lift off the American. He didn't make a sound, dead or unconscious. He dropped the pack. Long gashes crying blood already stitching themselves up. He looked up to meet the instructor's eyes, breathing hard through his nose. Stench, sweat and blood. The dark man looked back, expressionless, statue of shadow.

"Get up."

He got to his feet, bloody blisters patching over. He stood stiff, the courtyard was alive, crawling with newbies flitting about outside the firelight. Gawking. Waiting.

"You were a hero, in your home town." He poked a meaty finger at the wounds. Pink welts. "Not because of this. Because of that." The finger aimed at the two packs lying forgotten on the ground like corpses. He just stared back at him. "The Legion is your Fatherland now. Doing that doesn't make you a hero. It makes you just like everyone else."

"You're a legionnaire now, congratulations." The big man said in an ancient Japanese. Once the young man's language, no more. "Now get the fuck out of my sight. Tomorrow starts early."

He saluted his superior, waited until he turned heel and left, going back to sleep in the officer's barracks. To comfort, to familiarity. He relaxed, turned back into the night, treaded away silently on bare feet.

They were all waiting for him. His squad mates. His family. Welcomed him back with silent nods. The American was lying face up on top of his blanket, eyes closed. His blood would have stained the sheets otherwise. The shinobi padded over to his bunk, sat down, rubbed the blond stubble of his hair.

"Hey."

Something over his shoulder. A voice. A beer. Lukewarm.

"Saved you one."

He nodded to the caramel-colored Afrikaner, grabbed the beer, tipped to him the spout in thanks.

"Moses. Conrad." He supplied, and sat down on the squeaky spring mattress next to him. The blond shinobi held the lukewarm beer up to his forehead. It was still colder than the rest of the room, which was pitifully hot and muggy. The mosquitos buzzed around the lamplight. The only one, in the middle of the room.

"Lights out!"

He sighed, took a swig in the darkness, listened as others settled in, on top of their sheets. Creaky bedsprings. Familiar now. He missed his futon. Listed to the crickets, not cicadas.

"Onamae-wa, nan desu-ka?" The Afrikaner, still up. He took another swig, stared at him. Icy blue eyes pierced through the darkness. Despite the heat, Conrad shivered.

"Uzumaki, Naruto."

"Hajime mashite, Naruto-san."

"Yoroshiku onegaeshimasu."

* * *

1\. Almost all of these were actual missions which happened during this time. Congo-Brazzaville, French lead mission 1997. Zaire (Congo-Leopoldville), in and out 1998, 2003, same with the Central African Republic. 10th Emergency session of the UN was in regard to Palestine, so this is the 11th. Cambodia was 1992-1995.

2\. Buddhism is very central to the culture in both Cambodia and Burma (Myanmar), but it is ironically probably more 'loose' of an interpretation than in places like Nepal. Temples seem to be more of an institution for transient people rather than a purely spiritual pursuit, in most cases. (this is my personal observation from visiting both recently and several years ago, any natives out there feel free to correct me).

3\. Le Casques Bleu, the Blue helmets, a pretty universal name for UN soldiers because of the color of their patches and obviously helmets that are painted for recognition. A chéché is a long scarf, traditionally popular with the French Foreign Legion since its institution in the 1800's. IT is very practical as a headwrap, keeping out desert sands, as well as many other uses. Here, I am using it to refer to the shinobi's traditional Hitai-ate, which obviously does not have a direct translation, and so the locals would have improvised. I just can't see ninja wearing helmets, cuts out too much sound and sight, and they can get really tiresome to wear for long periods of time.

4\. It was not the treaty of Versailles that actually banned poison gas as a weapon of warfare, but one of the numerous ones from the Hague, which as the capital of the Netherlands has long since been a center of international treaties.

5\. Executive Outcomes was a very real and very famous mercenary group. Immortalized in the movie "Blood Diamonds", although I do not think they are ever mentioned by name. A few hundred of their professional soldiers assisted the government of Zaire in quashing their local rebellion. Long-term efficacy is a moot subject which I am not going to tackle here. I am not here to make any political statements, only relaying historical facts for context. The UN reaction to them is purely fictional.

6\. Pretty much everything I mention about the French Foreign Legion is true, to the best of my knowledge. I may fudge things here and there as far as dates and exact phrasings are concerned, but the numbers and situations are accurate.

7\. For the sake of the story, world events are transpiring on an accelerated pace. Twin Towers attack now took place in mid 2000, and the US lead Operation Enduring Freedom, invasion of Afghanistan is very late/early 2000/2001. VE day was the end of WWII in Europe.

8\. Almost all of them were Saudi nationals. Look it up. Again, not trying to be poltical in any way, shape or form. Just trying to state facts for the sake of making a cohesive storyline.

9\. French is obviously the official language of the FFL, but knowing it is not a requirement to enlistment. You learn fast. In Belgium they speak mainly French and Flemish (Dutch) and a little German.

10\. Someone from South Africa. Under apartheid, ended in 1994, it was technically illegal to be of mixed race. Black and white dichotomy still very much exists to this day.

11\. This is license. It is the Legion's unofficial slogan, and so is not marked on their gates at the base in Calví.


	2. Into the Valley

The Air France flight stood there on the black tarmac desert. A blue and white vulture. Lines of heat bisected it, cut the barren landscape in two.

Boots rattled down the metal stairway and into the staggering heat. Mottled figures carrying sacks half again as big as they, holding everything they needed. Everything they owned fit in their pockets. What mattered was within arm's reach.

A few kissed the ground upon disembarking, regretted it. Flight was something that about half had experienced before. Kissing blistering hot asphalt was something else novel. No one would forget that day, for various reasons.

They filed, like green ants across the airfield, a sea of black. A sea of nothing. In the distance, light bent upward. Yellow sand. A yellow nothing. An island ahead, made of concrete. A building like every other one they had seen in months. Their lives were a boat shuffled from one port to another, each one identical. They moved around on deck, busying themselves following commands. But they were inevitably headed in one direction.

Basic training was anything but. But it did not instill the same hopefulness that training once did. No sense of accomplishment lay at the end. They passed each day, shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm, only to see which one of them would not be there the morning after. Each hoped there would be something awaiting them in those poorly air-conditioned walls. Something to fill that empty void. There was. It wouldn't.

The desks that awaited them were no different than the ones they had left behind in their previous lives. They had gone from being schoolchildren, to schoolchildren with a mandate to kill, and the expertise to follow it up. The professor was leaner, sharper, with more shiny brass on his chest. And Frenchie-er. Blaze red beret cocked left (1) and a Parisian accent, haughty and refined, but clipped in a way that left no room to question. Not that they needed to.

He would give them direction. Calling their names from a printed list he scanned above his bushy mustache, groups of freshly minted legionnaires disappeared into blank doors in company of NCO's (2) who had been stacked to the side of the room until needed. These were their unit assignments, as unconventional as they were. Yet, to some they felt too familiar.

Faces had all been the same until that point. They were all legionnaires, hammered into the same mold. They were interchangeable. Until now. There were five faces left at the end of the list. Each looked around at the empty seats, the people left looked back. Each were strangers, distant family.

"Lebel, Moses, Nemoto, Tamura, Uzumaki."

They stood and filed out in wake of someone else who was not yet clear enough to be a stranger, but would be their commander for the foreseeable future. Their handler.

* * *

"You three."

They found themselves standing at attention in front of that same stranger as he sat behind a cheap particleboard desk in a room barely large enough to hold three of them, let alone six. The heat was nearly unbearable, now that they were aware of it. A rusty fan that could have been either a decade or a century old the only thing providing relief. Not enough.

He thumbed through a blank manila folder in his hands, not looking at any of them in particular. They knew which three he meant, though. He stared at them above his coke-bottle glasses. He wasn't sweating. Somehow unaffected by the heat, he had all the time in the world.

"Sir!"

Three consecutive answers. Three bodies stepped forward, as far as they could.

"At ease."

As best they could, they complied. Uneasy, not just because of the awkward position.

He dropped the folder closed on the cheap desk. A harsh slap, which everyone in the room cringed at. Even him. Though it didn't seem like he missed a beat. He propped his Ranger boots on the edge of the desk, leaned back. How he could do so in that small room was a mystery.

"I don't need to tell you, that a lot is riding on your shoulders." He was unreadable. For the three that stepped forward, it was like he hadn't even moved his lips.

"I don't mean the war." He shrugged his shoulders. War was life, for the Legion. Peace was waiting for war. "I mean for your future."

Not one of them. All of them. All Shinobi. Familiar to one another even before the grueling training had made them all brothers, sisters. They had been broken down, stripped of this distinction, and yet here it was again, reminding them that they were different, and as long as they were, there would be conflict.

"I for one would like to see it succeed." He looked at the fan as if he was looking out a window, of which there were none. "The potential that you bring to the table is…staggering. Although, not everyone sees that as a good thing." He sighed, looked back at the three of them as if they were more trouble than they were worth. They probably were.

"There are so many volunteers for our corps that they had to reinstate the 1ere REP. A regiment, I'm sure you know, that was disbanded after they attempted a coup on the president of France back in '61" (3). Again, he shrugged it off like it was not big thing, let out a single laugh. "Look at it whichever way you want." A second chance for the disgraced regiment. An omen of ill fortune for them.

"Each of you is supposed to be some kind of superhuman. But you know, every green legionnaire that comes to me thinks that." He spoke as if he had seen scores come and go, but his youthful face was hard to believe. Crow's feet peeking out behind his glasses, leathery skin on folded arms. They supported his claim. "There are records," he waved to the folder lying forgotten on the desk. Apart from a pen, blue, there was nothing else. He had them, but they had nothing on him. No nametag. "but they tell me nothing. I see bodies in front of me like I see words on the page." One male and two female. Unprecedented in the legion, but then again, everything about their kind seemed to be.

"What I want to know, what I need to know from you Shinobi is if you can work with me. Work with them." He motioned to the other two still standing behind them. They didn't need to look. "So can you? Can you follow my every command as if it came from another shinobi? I'm not like you. I'm normal." Eyes sharp as glass sparkling irony, said otherwise. "What if I asked you to do something that might get you killed?"

There was nothing for a long time. Hours ticked by without a clock to tell them how much time had passed. The Belgian's massive body continued to radiate heat behind them. But it was a test of wills. A test they could not fail. The unnamed NCO waited out the eternity scrutinizing them passively. It might have been better if he hated them. Hate was easy. This was a man they did not want to disappoint.

"Sir."

A single eyebrow drifted upward.

Parched throat. Swallow. The blond in the middle fidgeted, took a half-step forward.

"We are not Shinobi. We are legionnaires."

A coy smile.

"Ah!" Look of discovery. "But why?"

No answer was needed, for now. He shot to his feet and they found him on their side of the desk. The space mystery was solved. He was short. Shorter than the smallest of them. Still, he clapped the giant Manu on the shoulder, somehow looking down on them all in the process.

"Désolé. I must hand you two off for now. I have to deal with the three problem children." He smirked at the three of them as the door opened. Another brother, as of yet unknown led Manu and Conrad away, presumably to join the rest of the squad. Once cleared, he beckoned them out the doorway.

"Come."

Taking them all under his wing with a sweep of his hand.

"I like to think on my feet." Explaining everything.

It had all happened so fast, the three were still struggling to come to terms with it. In basic, they were nothing. Here too, they were nothing of a different sort. Now they had responsibilities, and the barest sense of permanency. Details filtered in selectively.

What they knew from their commanding officer was only what they could see. There wasn't even a name on the desk. The expediency with which he exited the room made them nervous.

"Sir?" He paused at the transept, glancing over his shoulder.

"Shouldn't you take the folder with you." The manila folder, left forgotten. The pen was already in his pocket.

"Hm? Nah. It's not mine. It was here when I came in." Glasses winked at them as he disappeared.

"Isn't this…your…office?" Three bodies were already drawn in his wake as the question was parsed out.

The four of them swept through barren hallways. They were on his heels and having to catch up. He was fast. Not brilliantly energetic, though. He just did not waste time that was not his own.

"Nemoto, Karui."

"Sir?" The redhead spoke up. Though one could hardly tell. Each of them were buzzed to the scalp.

"What are you good at? I need to know what I am working with here. We know you Shinobi types work well with one another. I need to know how I'm going to fit you in to the rest of us. I know you have prior skills, but I need to see what can be of use to me. This isn't a peacekeeping mission, you know."

"Sir, I fought in the war as well, sir." She paused, glanced back at the other two. "We all did."

"Not like this one, you haven't. Officer's quarters." A dismissive wave at the faded door without stopping. "Not that you'll need it. I'm not here anyway. Well?" He was still waiting on her answer.

"Sir, I'm above par in Kenjutsu sir, that is-"

"A sword, I know. Hardly useful where we're going. Next. Tamura, Tenten, go." The redhead was indignant, being dismissed so fastidiously and not having a chance to defend herself. Her upset was red tinge on her dark skin, no more.

"Sir," Tenten jogged to the head of the group. "I-"

"Mess hall." He cut her off, gesturing to an open set of double doors. There was always someone eating in the mess, no matter where you were. It was half full now. Quiet, much more sedate than they were used to. "Be sure to grab something here when we are done." That was an order. "Well, go on." They had not stopped moving, he did not expect her to stop either.

"I am proficient with just about any weapon." She admitted with honest humility. "If it shoots or cuts, I can use it."

"Tabarnac!" He swore, they assumed. "I am supposed to get superhumans and I get the three most normal in the lot of you! Uzumaki, please, give me something to work with." They all saluted smartly passing the same officer that addressed them earlier, didn't slow their pace. Tenten, like Karui, slunk to the back of their party with masked indignation. They still hurried, to where, they did not know. It still seemed they were traveling in circles.

The blond paused briefly, for the first time in a long time since his emigration from his homelands. Used that split-second to think about everything. Where they had all come from, they all spoke the same language, but there were accents varying depending on where you were from. With the influx of people from all over the world, they had been deluged with different languages to the point where accents did not matter as long as you could communicate. Their NCO spoke in French, a natural patois but unlike anything they had heard before. Deep, ancient. Much like their own native tongue. Look underneath the underneath.

"Sir, weren't you given files on us? Surely those details must have been included."

He stopped, and the three of them had to slam on the breaks to prevent from running into him. He sent an amused smile over his shoulder.

"Of course they were. But I want to hear it in your words."

Naruto's straight face drooped slightly. The attitude was disturbingly familiar, and thus painful. They continued on. When he didn't receive an answer right away, he supplied his own.

"They really castrated you, no? Shit! Half of your abilities got put on the 'Forbidden' list. So what do you have left to go on?" The tongue lashing cut him deep. Somehow he knew that he wasn't talking strictly about his ninjutsu. They knew next to nothing about him, and he knew a lot more than he let on.

He probably knew why the three of them were there in the first place. How much of their history that was written up was available? How much could simply be surmised? The simple fact that they were there told him a lot. It meant that they each had nothing to go back to. No other options left for one reason or another. They couldn't exist in this new world thrust upon them, and this was the only way to keep treading water.

They burst through double doors into a cavernous space, a hangar which immediately drenched them in stale heat and the smell of oil. It was the same one they'd entered in scant hours before. Their duffels were stacked in a pile in the center with all the rest. He stopped. For good, it seemed. Turned around, with hands crossed behind his back, and stared at them as they froze to attention.

"I suppose it does not matter. If you were not capable of being trained, you would not be here." He spoke as if they were dogs, which, for all intents and purposes, they were. They had since lost the investment into indignation at such broad insults, after all, every recruit was worthless. It was 90% of their basic training, learning repeatedly that they had no value other than as a cohesive unit.

"However…"

However, this was new. He looked them over, individually this time. Not as individuals per se, but rather cuts of meat, each with unique flavor and purpose. It threw the three of them off balance, even more than the redundant questioning had. They had gone from being an amorphous group called 'Shinobi', to another group called 'Legion' without reconnecting with their own humanity. He saw their face, and what lay behind. They did not even know what motivations existed back there, and so felt naked and stripped under his scrutiny.

"It is not merely enough, simply to be trained. All the training in the world means nothing without learning to apply it. I cannot make you learn. I can help you find what motivates you to learn. So, not now, but sometime, I am going to need to know: what drives you? What inspires you to continue fighting when your homeland has renounced such ideals? When every logical part of you says that peace is the answer. Animals fight." He shook his head, admonishing a false answer. "You, none of you are animals. I need more than that." He nodded once, to himself, and turned on his heel leaving them without another word.

As if acknowledging one another's presence for the first time, the three looked back and forth at one another. Each hoping for a hint of comprehension but each coming up disappointed. But this was but a second, before they realized they had missed something far more crucial.

"Sir! Wait, sir!"

He halted mid-stride and glanced over his shoulder as fully-laden forklift skittered on by.

"We didn't even get your name!"

A smile and a wave, but not an answer.

"I suggest you get some rest!" He yelled back at them. "Tomorrow comes early, and time, she waits for no man! Or shinobi!"

Though equally nonplussed by the bizarre introduction, the eccentric man in his obfuscations sparked a flame of familiarity, continuity, in the heart of a blond young man. And that flame lit a candle so he could begin to search the depths of his soul.

* * *

Night. The moon past its highest arc, but in no way morning. The three, now five, lay sprawled out on their loaned luggage in the hangar which never went fully dark, red light hanging in the midst of sunset. And never was it quiet. But by now, they had learned to sleep anywhere.

Which was good, because neither had the two non-shinobi known where to billet. They had had the foresight to sneak in a fast meal, and sympathy enough to smuggle some out to their other comrades. Gone were the days of glamor and hubris. They were digits of the same hand. Each needed to be functioning in order to grasp the situation.

They had no idea where or when their commander would come to fetch them, but knew that the hangar was logically the only place for them to depart. It was only possible to travel East so far by ground from the Legion base in Djibouti (4).

Nights proved bitter cold there as well, despite the staggering heat of the day. So when the light slap snapped the blond shinobi awake, it also disturbed Conrad and Tenten on each of his shoulders, huddled close for warmth.

"Wakey, wakey, Levez-vous!"

The three of them shot to their feet as if a cannon had gone off. The other two sprawled out on top of the pile slid into their place on either of the wings.

"Good morning!" Their still unknown command greeted them with an overtly facetious levity. "Sleep well?" Strangely enough, the question was in apparent earnest, but again did not wait for an answer. "Good. Allons-y!" He lassoed them with his finger and beat a quick pace to the cracked hangar doors where black night shone through.

They scurried to grab gear, bags that were not their own were shunted off like footballs.

"Oh!" He cried again in his departure. "Bring something warm!"

Individually they cursed, and between hobbling to catch up they rummaged through their over-stuffed duffels to find something that fit that description.

"Where did he go?!" The redhead all but demanded as she wrestled with an arm on her parka, tripping out the door in the midst of the stampede. Naruto pulled his head through the issue tricot shirt and spied a modest silhouette heading for one of the many transport planes. This one, however, was already revving its props and had its lights dimmed. Their measures had been prudent after all. Time, and apparently their new NCO waited for no one.

Though as they came panting in through the lowered cargo ramp, he stood there with his distinctly unreadable smile looming sinister in the crimson light. They tossed their effects in the mostly full hold and stepped in just as a single nod started to close them in and the floor underneath them lurched. As the fresh troops struggled to catch their consciences up to their fully awake bodies and clung on to webbing to avoid being sent to the ground, they saw their tormentor deliberately pointing his finger at them and counting silently.

"Good, you're all here." He said at last. He stretched like a cat before plunking down in a fold-out chair, a canvas bucket. But none of them had any better option, and as the aircraft picked up speed and nosed into the air, they quickly found spaces on the corrugated steel floor or else hooked their arms through the fastened cargo webbing. Once again, though, it was only a temporary measure as they found themselves at a loss and adrift without orders.

He was happy to oblige.

"What's the matter?" He appraised their jumbled expressions, confusion, amusement and perhaps a touch of disappointment on his own lips. "Hurry up and wait!"

They did.

* * *

With the first step out on the tarmac, it was difficult to tell that they had every even left the historic outpost in Djibouti. The unapologetic heat which greeted them was the same, but now they were moving in opposite direction to the flow. Personnel in short-sleeved desert fatigues rushed them on their egress, flowing past them like water to unload the much more valuable cargo from the craft's hold. They swam upstream against this to keep sight of their commander who had already jumped ship and was lost in the blinding light.

It was, however, a different port they had arrived at. Though the same asphalt sea stretched on for miles in desolation, mountains clearly loomed like shark's teeth not far beyond. Sharply jagged and with ample replacements stacked up behind them. It was a good metaphor for their own status, as well as the task that lay ahead of them.

A blaring honk drew their attention, and a Landrover Defender with an open top skittered in to view, a pleasantly sardonic face behind the wheel. Even with the extended cab, there was barely enough room for them all to fit in between cargo, and they quickly had to rig up their bags to hand off the side while they piled into the open back, or in the case of Manu, the front passenger seat. Despite the prior rush, their nameless command hardly even acknowledged the delay, and instead stared intently at the precarious peaks, losing himself in the lofty altitudes.

But as soon as the last boot was lifted off the pavement, his own foot was firmly on the gas pedal and even with most of the human cargo sticking themselves to the bed with chakra, they still had to hang on to one another to keep from being shunted out the back where they would most assuredly be left behind.

The rushing wind prevented any sort of intimate conversation, not that any of them had such a desire. They were in a shared dream, and perhaps talking now would only break whatever semblance of normalcy they had developed to cope with their incredible situation. Opting to continue lucidity was easy. The light patrol vehicle sped off down a hardpacked dirt road with nothing but wasteland monotonously streaming by, jackets and sweats were unzipped and pulled off, and the illusion like blinders was easy to slip on.

None caught the glassy eyes straying from the road ahead to peak back at their complacent charges in the mirror. Green sclera winking cheerfully from behind thick plastic rims.

They drove well into the afternoon and early evening. Stopping once. Fill and unload. Fuel was dumped into the twin gas tanks with jerry cans from the cramped space in the back. The noise of the operation mingled with the now gentle afternoon breeze, the tinkle of overly-full bladders being relieved. Rations were fished out of packs and scarfed down on the road between mouthfuls of dust.

They were getting closer and closer to the base of the mountains, and so the sun continued to disappear more quickly. How the one driving was able to see the road ahead while staring into the blinding sun was yet another mystery to associate with their 'normal' leader. As soon as the sun disappeared, however, an encampment became clearly visible. Swaddled comfortably in a shallow wadi, the complex of tents proved extensive, yet perfectly blended into the undulating terrain surrounding them with camouflage nets that hung off their peaks like cobwebs.

The truck lumbered up cautiously to a spot on the outside of the assembly, a place it clearly was meant to go if the wheel ruts incised in the dirt were any indication. He parked sufficiently near that it could disappear into the dunes easy enough, and did in fact as soon as they unloaded their bags jerry-rigged to the outside. Further sand-colored nets were produced from inside the truck and strung up so that in the darkness it became just another unassuming lump. He waited in patient silence as they did this without his having to say so.

He lead them to one of the larger tents, uncharacteristically waiting for them with flap raised, where he stayed perched until they all had filed in.

It was not a small room, but the majority was occupied by a sheet-steel folding table with a pile of maps stacked like cards on its olive surface. These, he ignored as he stood on the far end and addressed them under the barely-sufficient electric lantern. Before he did, though, he paused as if remembering a detail, and then proceeded to deliberately point at each one of them, squinting, while he mouthed numbers with his lips.

They stood in silent protest, not quite sure what to make of this eccentric man who was given position as their caretaker. There was an almost-consensus that he was simply doing these paltry tricks to throw them off balance, but with the look of youthful innocence he so innocuously possessed, there was always that niggling doubt which questioned his capacity to lead them into combat. Only time, unfortunately, would tell. And by then it might be too late.

He finished and coughed gently into his hand, all that he apparently needed to rid himself of the silence and dust that accumulated throughout the day.

"Well then. Glad you could make it." Like a hood he pulled over his head, he became a soldier. "Fist off: you will need to know what is expected of you, from both me and by those above me back in Kabul and Paris. The simple answer is the best you can. If you think you are doing your duty, you are not doing enough. Not for these people, and not for me. It was a stretch to let any shinobi into a foreign army, and it was an even bigger stretch to allow them roles which would be pivotal in long-term strategy. They resurrected a whole regiment just to accommodate you. I cannot stress enough that it isn't just your heads on the line."

He flicked his gaze to the other side of the table where the two 'normal' soldiers stood at uneasy rest. "That goes for you two as well. You may not think it fair, but the higherups are going to be keeping their eye on you as well, expecting you to keep these three in line." He laughed derisively to himself. "Not that any of us here really could, if any of them decided to go all out." He looked back at the shinobi like he was eying a growling Doberman on a leash. "The only thing keeping them from eviscerating everything that stands in their way is a piece of paper a thousand miles away. Never forget that."

Once again he managed place the shinobi into an uneasy stance. They had not liked him deriding their abilities, but by the same token the way he talked about them now as if they were unstable bombs was as biting as it was contradictory.

"I expect all of my soldiers to obey my orders. It doesn't matter where you come from, who you were before this, or even who you thought you were in basic. But I also want my soldiers to be able to think and fend for themselves. That's the criteria for being in special forces, and that's what you are now. 1ere REP, Commando de Renseignement d'Action Profund (5). You're now expected to be able to go anywhere, do anything, so that's what you're going to be asked to do. And failure, as you already know, is never an option."

The most senior English speaker twitched at the irony of the acronym their title made, but the others were as sober and jumpy as stone. This had been the most 'no-bullshit' answer they had received from him thus far, and no one wanted to disturb the magic.

"Failure in our case… always means death." His eyes closed and took with them the tumultuous green sea inside. It returned almost immediately. "And despite my earlier question," it was hard to remember which one, it always felt like a lifetime ago. "I do not take the lives of my subordinates lightly. No matter how I feel about you personally, it is my goal to bring you home."

A heartwarming, if abstract concept for the lot of them. Where was home now? The Southernmost reaches of Africa? The busy streets of Bruxelles crowded with scents of coffee and frying potatoes? A land that the rest of the world, and even those living within it forgot? Was it back in Calví? Or this humble tent-village seconds away from being swept up by the desert in the middle of….where were they again?

"Afghanistan."

He had whipped a map out of the stack seemingly at random, but producing a full-color map of the subject, fractured into cookie crumble states with the thick baker's mold around the whole thing delineating it from the other, nigh-unimportant countries. Nevertheless, everything had already been sampled beforehand by an unknown person with red and black felt tip pens, including those outliers.

"In the entire history of this country, no one has been able to conquer it. The British Empire tried. The Soviets Tried. Now, the US thought that as the new kid on the block, they'd try their hand at it." His disapproval was well masked, but it smelled more like exasperation. "Luckily for them, the Fatherland decided to lend itself to the cause, along with many...eager…volunteers. And it just so happens that the Legion is well versed in the alchemy of finding victory in defeat."

"Sir," The first time someone decided to volunteer an opinion. Immediately regretted it, but there was no backing down. The colored Afrikaner choked a cough but continued. "Wouldn't it, I mean, should we not go into this thinking it is possible to actually achieve a victory? We aren't trying to conquer it, after all."

"Well of course!" He smiled at Conrad, somehow managing to look both proud and contemptuous at the same time. But his smile flatlined right after. "But, what do you define as victory in this case?" Silence. "Conquering is easy. You kill. You destroy everything. This, is hard." He let that fall on them.

Conrad had no answer to this. The stoic Belgian had none. Neither did any of the shinobi. They doubted if he himself had one. Perhaps this was why he was so keen on depriving them of information? Because it was a case of blind leading the blind. If any of them had faith, it was the time to turn to it. If there were any, the prayers were silent.

"Peace."

The other five turned to the raspy voice. The blond shinobi swallowed, but only to wet his otherwise parched throat. He was not afraid of being thought a fool.

"When every last person in every last valley can lay down their arms against one another. When everyone, man woman and child can be treated with the same dignity as everyone else. When a child can think about what they want to be when they grow up, not if."

Everyone in the dim tent was silent. There were no snickers of derision, no applause, no condemnation. Just nothing. The commander stared at the map intently, reading lines and dots like a secret language, seeing if the answer was in that scripture.

"Like your people did?" He glanced up at the whiskered man, boy, whatever he was standing there in his uniform which gave him license to kill. "Your people were given something to unite against. A common enemy." His fingers traced the bold lines like reading palms. "All this, here every valley is its own world, much like the Shinobi Nations before the discovery. What these people have in common is a way of life, and no matter what we do, even if we do nothing, we cannot preserve that way of life because we cannot return ignorance. Neither to ourselves, nor to them."

He removed his hands from the table, straightened his back and gingerly removed his glasses. Removing a fine cloth from the vertical zippered pocket on his uniform, he began massaging the spots from the lenses. Crow's feet bled into many scars, hidden under the plastic frames. "So we are expected to bring about that type of world. Given the tools we have, it can be done. We give them a common enemy, hmm? Just like the it was with your homelands." He glanced down at his handiwork, scouring the transparent surface with his gaze, picking out every blemish. "Them against the world…. Is that the kind of peace you are looking to create?"

* * *

"He'll never be able to understand, you know. What you have done for us."

The manatee duffel bags had long since been unpacked and meticulously repacked, leaving only what necessaries they would take along with them on the morrow. Their mission details long since sketched out, and the rest of the team, old and new, long since departed to an all too short sleep once again. All except for two of the shinobi, night owls by trade. But long nights were about the only comfortingly familiar aspect of the whole ordeal.

Neither the blond nor the redhead felt at home in the parched landscape. For her, the mountains were comfort, but not as they were camped just out of reach. For him, there was simply too little green. He would little be able to understand how his closest friend could find solace in such a scene without life. Though in retrospect, it might be appropriate foreshadowing for the world they were about to enter.

"It's funny," He started out on a seeming non-sequitur. "The stars. We are in the same hemisphere, but everything looks so different. Makes you wonder if we were ever seeing things the way they really were at all."

The nominally abrasive woman scowled, perhaps at his ignoring her question, or perhaps understanding this was part of his answer. She pressed him. Let the tent flap fall, and moved a few paces into the darkness. He was sitting with his knees pressed to his chest, shaved head cocked up to look at the powder-sugar coated night sky.

"You did something no one thought was possible. I didn't think it was possible. First time we met, I thought you were either crazy or stupid."

"Why couldn't I be both?"

She obliged him with a humored huff, which fogged in the rapidly cooling night air.

"Maybe you are, still. Doesn't change the facts."

The moonscape all around them was silent for a pause. A flock of bats swam across the deep blue.

"No, it doesn't." And even in this admission, he sounded more forlorn than he had in his musing about the stars. The Cloud native seemed to take offense at this though, and her foot stomped the hardpacked sand in lieu of his posterior.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" She yelled barely above a whisper. They may have been speaking a language only the three of them should understand, but she also wanted to be respectful of their teammates. "Yeah, okay, I understand why you might be upset. Sure, they got rid of the Kage positions, took that dream from you. But it was for the good, right? It's what you wanted, for everyone to live in peace. You still have the respect of the entire shinobi nations for that. They-we, will never forget that."

Her diatribe, long overdue petered out into the night. It had been festering in her for many months now, able to be ignored, as all passive thoughts were during that time, in favor of surviving the grueling pace set by their instructors. Conversation between recruits had always been scarce, privacy non-existent. Plus, how was one supposed to express thanks to a mortal who dwelled in the business of gods?

But Naruto felt more mortal now than perhaps ever before. It was not the non-stop pace of the training every day and night for nearly a year before this, learning things he never dreamed possible. Nor was it the indignation of having his cultivated dream paved over in the span of a fortnight. It was the shear daunting nature of what still lay before him. And the fact that he could see no other alternative. Peace was always the ultimate goal.

He sighed, and looked down at a small scorpion toying with his booted foot. So strange he felt in those, even after all this time. While feet wrapped in leather protected him from the scorpion's stinger, he still felt so numb.

"I know." And Karui was taken aback by this, halted in taking another step towards the young man to wring his neck, if only for old-time's sake.

"But did I really do anything? Did anything really change?" The words of their mysterious yet shrewd command stayed with him all this time, fueled by his own doubt to overpower long-held convictions.

"What do you mean?" She could not comprehend the tenacity with which the previously bright boy clung to his malaise. Their homelands were at peace. While the rest of the world waged war all around them, they had planted the seeds of peace, and had even fostered it in their neighbors. The world as a whole, was looking up.

"Why are you here, Karui?" It was a strange thought, but this was perhaps the first time in nearly two years he had spoken her name. It bothered him that it sounded foreign on his tongue. His own voice, twisted into his native syllabary sounded strange. He was a stranger.

"What do you mean?" She huffed and folded her arms, taking it to be a questioning of her abilities. "I got past the physical, same as you."

Naruto was undaunted.

"Yes, but **why** are you here? Why not stay back in the Shinobi Nations? What do you not find there that you find here?" This barren waste, this land of death.

Her offense bled off like excess heat. A deep breath gave her cold air, calmed her.

"I guess… because it's the only thing I know how to do." She rubbed her arm, suddenly cold in only the tricot pull. "I don't have any other skill besides being a ninja. I guess I'm just a relic, now. There's a bunch of us like that." She admitted without shame. "But that will pass. The generation that comes after us, they won't have to live like we did. And that's thanks to you."

She stared at his hunched back, saw him toe the scorpion who had crawled up on his foot. It fell off into the sand. Tried to climb back on again.

"I know it seems daunting," a moment of epiphany, a recurrence of her ability to empathize gave her an insight as to what might be wrong with the dour boy. "trying to bring peace to the rest of the world. But just know," A clenched fist moved over her heart. "I swear that I will help you in any way I can. And I know Tenten would do the same, along with any other shinobi we happen across. We gave you our faith before, and you didn't disappoint. I know you won't again."

He had known for some time, given his desire to become Hokage, that people would expect great things of him, and he would be obliged to deliver. But how much was too much? He was just a mortal. Gifted, no doubt. But the task he had assigned himself to was as Sisyphean as they came. This world was many times larger than the one he had pacified before. It was older as well, and each of those years was another devoted to warfare, to killing, to hating one another. Even without Chakra this world before him had accomplished great, and terrible things.

And it seemed apparent that they were destined to continue. As much as he loathed to use that word, he could see no other alternative, as fate had indeed intertwined them all. The line was becoming blurred. Ninutsu, Ninshu. Good and evil. Here they were trying to liberate a nation that had never been conquered. Trying to instill peace at the end of a spear.

"… _. Is that the kind of peace you are looking to create?"_

Maybe. Maybe it was true peace. Or good enough, in any case. Maybe it wasn't. But just because it wasn't perfect, did not mean he had the right to stop trying. He was a slave to his altruism, shackled to his goodness. The trick now, was how to convince others of that fact. He may have understood the language now, but he was far from understanding them.

"C'mon." She slapped his back lightly. The scorpion fell off from his pantleg. "Get some sleep. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

And the next, and the next, and the next.

* * *

Tomorrow came early. And in the form of a hand like an oven mitt probing him gently awake. He had not slept soundly. Not for some time.

Blue eyes snapped awake. He sat up, nodded to the Belgian, who was already halfway out the open flap. Unsheathed himself from his sleeping bag, swung his feet down and into his boots. Didn't bother lacing them. Wrestled the synthetic down container into a compression sack, hitched it on to the rest of his gear. Slung the full pack over his shoulder, and followed the smell of charcoal and coffee.

The sun was not yet up, and the sand colored everything was tinted blue. Blue tents. Blue camo nets. Blue uniforms. Blue shorts.

Despite the fact that there was still a thin layer of frost blanketing every surface, half those awake were moving around dressed like they were still in bed. Apparently used to the cold, or else fortified by some especially strong brew, Naruto found himself surrounded by silently bustling men, all at least half again his age, majority clothed in short-shorts and tank tops. He was surprised by their resilience, rather than the display. Modesty had been bread out of all of them early on.

"It is early."

Naruto twitched. It was disorienting to hear the literal translation (6). He had gone to sleep last speaking Japanese, yet the greeting was in that irritatingly obscure variety of French. Misty vapor wafted its way across his nose. He glanced down to regard the cup of coffee from whence if emanated. The calloused hand which clutched it. He took it without thanks.

"It's already light." They had gotten up earlier. He was sure his commander had as well.

"True." He heard the man take a prolonged sip after the much too chipper admission. "But it is still early. I know that you and your group have been run ragged the past few days." _Can you handle the mission still?_

The blond eyed the mud in the stainless-steel cup. Swirled it. Saw the grains percolate to the top. Took a large gulp which burned. Felt good in his stomach. He looked…down at his commander. His level smile.

"When do we leave?"

The expression didn't change. A loud noise drew both their attention. A metal container being unlatched, lid carefully removed. He regarded the soldier as he sorted through the contents. Took another sip.

"Soon."

He nodded to himself. Turned around and began to walk off. Stopped another man, talked to him lowly. Naruto took another gulp of his coffee. Already cool enough. He downed the rest in a third gulp. His face scrunched. It was much stronger than the stuff they'd gotten in basic. His split-second reflexes threw up his hand, a scroll landed in his open palm. He glanced at it, the lopsided grin of the commander.

"Go on. Get ready."

He scowled, but curiosity drew him to the nostalgic object. He unrolled it, and his nose wrinkled as if it contained a bad smell. Mass production. He wasn't really a snob when it came to such things, but he just resented those people picking and choosing among their traditions. Bastardizing them. Judging them. And then using them regardless. He never thought he would see the day the ninja world would looks scrupulous.

He followed orders none the less, and returned to his rucksack and sealed everything that wasn't immediately needed, and put everything else into a day sack, including the scroll. He left out only the critical elements. Warm clothes, for one. It would warm up soon, but where they were going it was cold all-day long.

He dressed in layers, or as much as he could with what he was issued. He supposed he could have purchased some better equipment in the PX shops, or any number of stores which catered to his type of people. But they had hardly had any time as it was in their nonstop hop over international borders. First line gear came next. Sidearm, knife, first aid and E&E kit strapped to his belt which he clipped on over his jacket. 2nd line went on top (7). It was again, standard issue, and very cumbersome to someone used to high speed low drag. But it was comfortable enough, and some pencil-pusher high up in the bureaucracy had enough brains to procure some special-made pouches for their shuriken and kunai that sat alongside the STANAG ammo pouches.

Last thing he threw on top was the ubiquitous Chéché. In a previous context, in a life quickly slipping away, he might have thought the accessory frivolous, fruity even. Experience taught him otherwise.

Sure enough, when he sidled up to the truck, now trucks, for it had seemingly gone through mitosis overnight, almost every able body moving around had the same scarf draped over some part of their body, or wrapped tightly around neck and head.

The rest of their gear, though, was certainly anything but standard. Though a fair bit of it was indeed the same mottled camouflage made standard throughout the French forces, the majority was of simple drab colors, tan and olive, and all caked with a goodly amount of the local terrain. Other items which hadn't started out so inconspicuous had been improved upon with a slap dash application of spray paint. A number of them were wearing items that looked far more eccentric than what would have been allowed to pass inspection back on the mainland, and Naruto took to be of local production.

"Here."

Speaking of which, his ever-mysterious and omnipresent caretaker popped out from one of the nearby tents amidst the bustle, admittedly catching Naruto off-guard a little. He was proffering something to him, but Naruto had his eyes glued on the man's head, which indeed bore the anticipated scarf and of course glasses, but was also adorned in what looked like a woolen mushroom.

He must have caught Naruto's moment of fixation on his headgear, and in response dropped the bundle he had been carrying into Naruto's already laden arms.

"It's a Pakhul."

Naruto looked to the black case now cradled in his arms. It looked like a rifle to him.

The glasses the man was wearing prevented Naruto from seeing his eye twitch at his continued ineptitude. Naruto might have become a professional soldier, but he still didn't catch on to things very quickly. Something his instructors in basic had yet to rid him of.

"The hat." He pointed a gloved finger to his hat just to emphasize it to the apparent dullard. "It's traditional Afghani. It's good to blend in."

He may have nodded but dumbly in response, but Naruto still took keen note of it. Both of the costume, as well as the need to keep a low profile. Though with the two trucks loaded down with a baker's dozen fully-armed and equipped troops, he failed to see how they were going to do that anyway.

He slung the small pack over his shoulder and unzipped the case, which was indeed a rifle bag. And of course, out came a rifle. It was not the standard issue FAMAS which every Legionnaire had been schooled in (8). He was still not an aficionado of weapons, but forced to learn it in the course of his training, he knew what it was and how to use it. An M733, a fine weapon, or it might have been about a decade ago. This one was worn out of its Parkerizing and its silvery undercoat had been covered up multiple times with that same cocktail of drab paints. The grenade launcher extended past the snub-barrel that was barbed with what looked like a medieval prong.

He eyed the still rather foreign weapon in his hands, hefting it rather like it was musical instrument than one made for war. Too light, in his opinion. For the life of him he could not fathom why he had been passed this relatively ancient weapon (if it were a sword, it would have been no problem. But guns had moving pars which wore down with time, and this one was probably as old as he was). It was a mark of special forces to use more tailored weapons, and this was certainly that. But he began to wonder whether this tailor job was just a little bit threadbare.

A firm hand on his shoulder shook him from his inspection.

"Nice gun." He cocked an eyebrow at the cheekily grinning tomboy, who with a buzzcut looked even more butch and yet retained that dangerously dominant spark of femininity. "It suits you. Short barrel won't matter, you probably couldn't hit anything with it anyway."

He sent Tenten a distinctly flat look while he ducked through the sling attached to the weapon. Unlike the two female ex-shinobi, while he was just barely able to meet minimal proficiency with the standard rifle, he was nowhere near on par with the two women. With Tenten, it was kind of a given. She just seemed to take naturally to whatever was put in her hands. Speaking of which…

Naruto's flat look turned into a sly grin as he stroked the thick length of the launcher seductively.

"Mmmm. You're damn right it does. Looks just like me, don't it?"

He received a punch in the arm as his only response.

Despite the reactionary double-entendre, something about the exchange felt forced to Naruto. That was the manner in which they had talked all throughout training, when there was talk to be had. And it had been alright there, especially as a means to break the social ice between them and the non-shinobi. But something about it now seemed so trite and superficial. These were his kinsmen. All of them were, and he longed to talk to them on more than just that surface level of vulgar soldier-humor.

"Oi! Face-de-crosser! Get a move on! You're with Tarek! In! In! Go! Go!"

The ranking officer's biting words cut through the otherwise quiet morning air, and shattered their jovial mood rather quickly. They both hurried to make haste, finding the second of the long-range vehicles with the rest of their neophyte team in back, the driver and passenger seat occupied by a swarthy looking man clearly of middle-eastern extraction behind the wheel, and a humorless African glaring at them from behind an overly-large pair of sunglasses.

Taking the olive-skinned man to be Tarek, they jumped into the surprisingly roomy bed of the truck, behind both Manu and Conrad who was clinging on to the Ma-Deuce saddled in its pedestal mount. And as soon as they did the first truck hopped forward in a sand and rubber, and cloud of dust which impeded their vision. But apparently not that of their driver, who followed quickly in the coattails of the first, which was being driven like a bat out of hell by the same consternating NCO.

As they bumped and skipped out of the wadi and back onto the main road-hardly more than a goat path- which snaked its way into the horizon and up into the mountains, Naruto pulled the Chéché up over his nose and mouth, lest he break his fast on another meal of mainly silica. After managing to secure his goggles over his eyes while keeping one hand glued to the bench seats to prevent from flying off, he glanced around the back, noticing that it was a good deal roomier than when they had hopped out last.

The reams of cylindrical objects lining the bottom of the benches was the explanation. He did not even have to unroll them to know what they were, and likely what they contained. Mastering his disgust at the sheer number of surely press-stamped scrolls, he had to concede a bit of admiration to whoever had had the wherewithal and farsightedness to invest so heavily in the (to them) experimental devices. They had encountered very little flexibility in anyone they encountered outside of their home nations. Apart from the researchers, the average person was apprehensive at the idea of chakra based devices.

The military was even slower to change, so it was a wonder that they even got pouches for their throwing weapons. This discovery was on a different scale altogether. It made him wonder if the unit they had been assigned to was allowed that much leeway, or if their commanding officer was just that resourceful and shrewd. Either way, it made Naruto feel conversely more at home, and more off-balance than he had in the past year. Just what had they been dropped into?

Manu mumbled something that was swept up by the winds, which had picked up considerable speed in with the sun peaking over the horizon.

"What's that?" Naruto shouted to the giant, further muffled by the khaki turban wrapped around his head. It was the first words he had heard in months from the soft-spoken man.

"He's speaking Flemish!" Conrad yelled over his shoulder. "It's similar to Afrikaans, but I think he said: 'from the valley of death!" Manu made no attempt to repeat what he said, though.

Naruto frowned behind his dust-mask. He recognized the reference, if only through the continued utterances all throughout basic training. Tied to some sort of religion that was favored much to the west. But something about it seemed wrong.

"It's normally 'through the valley of the shadow of death'." Supplied Conrad, answering the mystery before he turned back around to focus on bending his knees in anticipation of the nasty bumps ahead.

Ah, that was it. 'Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil'. It was pretty self-explanatory, and honestly a little silly in his opinion. Fear was something to be embraced, because it guided you away from death. But what of the Belgian giant's transfiguration of the phrase? Bad translating, or something else?

Were the natives of that sacrilegious valley bringers of their demise? Maybe it was they who were the shades emerging from the valley, and he was warning whoever awaited them the demons from the pits of hell were coming for them that they might seek reconciliation with their gods?

Naruto preferred neither. He had been the demon, and he had been the one on the other side, fighting against the creatures of hell. He just wanted to ascend those lofty peaks and float away into the thin blue sky.

Behind him, Karui drew a deep breath of mountain air as the trucks' tires caught purchase on the gravel road wandering back and forth up switchbacks into heaven's realms. "It's like home…"

Naruto looked at his comrade, and then at all of them, cramped and huddled into the back of the four by four. Dour, wistful and manic looks alike, and found his own mouth curling up into a sight grin.

"Yeah, it's kind of like home, isn't it?"

* * *

1\. The French Foreign Legion paratroopers have traditionally worn a green beret ever since they were introduced. Red, the color coined by the British in WWII, is the traditional color for paratroopers worldwide, and is such for the airborne forces drawn from mainland France.

2\. Non-Commission Officer. Means that while they hold some command, they are still part of the rank and file. Officers in the Legion may also be drawn from the regular forces, but typically NCO's are promoted from recruits, hence they have more in common with the average 'poilu' (French equivalent to GI. Literally means 'Hairy One').

3\. When then President Charles de Gaulle wanted to pull troops from Algeria in 1961, many in the FFL felt abandoned by him, and so a good portion plotted to rebel against the president, planning on parachuting into Paris itself. The plot was discovered and the conspirators punished, but the 1ere REP (Regiment Etrangére Parachutiste) was disbanded. Only the 2eme REP still exists today.

4\. Really? You can Google this, but Djibouti is in East Africa, another historic base of the Legion.

5\. C.R.A.P. That is the actual acronym (canon time, not sure if it is still in use). Deep Reconnaissance Commandos. Don't laugh, those guys are the badass of the badass.

6\. Good morning in Japanese is Ohayo Gozaimasu, literally "it is early".

7\. E&E, escape and evasion kit, used for survival. 1st line gear are things that you never go anywhere without. Usually a medical kit, knife, etc. This is up to personal choice a lot of the time. 2nd line is where you carry all of your ammunition and field gear.

8\. I really don't want to hear anybody whose only experience is Call of Duty or any other video game lecture me. The Famas is the standard rifle for all the French forces at this time. But just because it looks cool doesn't make it a great rifle. It's operating mechanism is too flimsy, which is why the French are now switching over to the HK416. Although special forces have always been given preference and leeway with using other weapons they deem necessary.


	3. Down That Road

**Why am I choosing to update this? Because I can. Because I already had a lot of the chapter done, and I finally worked up the time and energy to start writing again. Hopefully this will be a trend. But in the mean time, I can post this with few worries about quality because its obvious that it didn't hook too many of you. In fact, not much point in writing this except for my own edification. But I figure, some anonymous person sometime in the infinite future of the web well find this one day and appreciate the explanation. For historical significance, or whatever. I figure its going to feature in the history of how human civilization imploded because everyone was too busy cooped up on their computer and not screwing enough. Meh. We had a good run. Not really.**

 **Enjoy the read, or whatever.**

* * *

"As-salamu alaykum."

"Salām."

The words were the same. But that was all. His baby-face mouthing the guttural language with a conscious lilt and a sincere smirk. The other one saying twice as much with half the syllables. A language, a way of life he had been born to, just as he had been born to his bearish looks and scraggly beard which ended mid-chest.

Yet, Naruto couldn't help but feel that the two of them were of a kind. Not that he knew that variety. He was not a part of that exclusive club of hearty individuals which skipped up those steep stones like mountain goats, at home in their haggard skin. And resilient as they were patient. He had one, and not the other.

Not yet, anyway.

If their aloof mission leader could somehow mold himself into a character that could mesh, while not seamlessly then fluidly, with the local populace of this harsh, mountainous region, then there was nothing to suggest that he, an equal foreign presence, could not do as much.

But still, he was uncomfortable, and not just because their commander suddenly disappeared into the pitch-black interior of the brick hut with the village chief and without his weapon, which leaned on the frame outside. Not just because of the cold which now bit swift on thin air, not having been able to retrieve anything heavier than the long-sleeve shirt and light jacket from his sealed pack on their quick ascent up the winding mountain road.

His finger twitched over the trigger unconsciously, though never quite gracing the innocuous button. His paranoia due entirely to the numerous sets of eyes appraising them from every angle. The whole village had come out to take a look at their odd procession from both overt and hidden angles. Not that he could blame them, but the looks directed to their motley group were oddly painful for him. Devoid of fear or scorn, they nonetheless provided him with a profound sense of guilt.

He did not want to give them false hope. He did not want to find himself beholden to something he was not sure he could deliver.

But it was perhaps already too late. The populace of that sprawling village, mud-brick houses carved into same-colored mountainside, had already been exposed to these (mostly) pale-face individuals. Strange faces. Strange clothes. Strange talk. Once seen, never to be forgotten. They could not undo themselves.

And yet…

A sharp noise like a birdcall. His body twitched around to find the source. One of the other soldiers, one he had not yet learned the name of, was laughing along with one of the locals, the two of them sharing a cigarette. Talking through the language of addiction. He relaxed. His finger did. His nerves did not.

His friends did not.

"Hey, Naruto?"

He felt the claw-like hand on his shoulder, glanced back to see the same nervousness in his comrade's honey-colored eyes, the only thing visible behind the wrapped turban besides the dark patch of skin.

"What's up?" He talked lowly as not to spook anyone more nervous than himself, but also because he did not trust any within earshot to be ignorant of their coded talk.

"Notice there's no women around?"

"Huh? What do you mean? There's you and Tenten…" But that was it. No locals.

This was normal, though. At least for where they were. Different norms, he supposed. But their norms demanded he keep his allies safe. What would this misogynistic culture think of his female teammates and their usurpation of a warrior's role?

Though come to think of it, it was pretty hard to tell the gender of any in their group, let alone race. Festooned with equipment as they were, and bundled up against the cold, they were all one dirt-covered mass of weary eyes. Lucky, maybe.

Even though she was not as heavily garbed as the rest of them, used to the cold apparently, Naruto was remiss to admit that the muscled, bare, arms which cradled the HK SG-1 did not betray too much her femininity. The tattoo emblazoned on her bicep didn't help either.

Even in the midst assimilation, their kind had strived to be different. No matter how hard one tried, it was impossible for them to completely divorce themselves from their homeland. Skulls were the standard symbol of death and a common feature among the corps. Death to them was of course the Shinigami, here featured coiffed in the Legion's green beret, tusked mouth agape, mounted on a Falange of arrows. A finely detailed medallion, a chakra wheel rested in the open maw.

Past and present. Always one with the other. Ideally, if not practically.

Even he had one, though it was not visible underneath the jacket. In fact, not much of him was. Like his comrades, he was a nameless, faceless individual. So starkly different from the days he would lead the charge into battle, visible for miles with his crimson cloak and shimmering locks. What would these dark-skinned people make of him, he wondered. Yellow hair? Whisker marks on his cheeks? They would probably burn him at the stake. He chuckled at this dark thought. Didn't particularly know why.

A tap on his leg like an electric shock drew him right back to reality, inner musings shattered like ice and the weapon jumped in his hand. Finger dangerously close to the trigger, mind dangerously close to death.

Thankfully, they had all been trained even before their current careers to have their instincts rule over rational. His body stayed his impulse as the now terrified child retreated back to the safety of his cohorts who all stared at him with eyes wide in abject shock. Before they all burst into excited giggles and toddled off, still wrapped in the throes of fascinated elation, their dangerous game concluded with a victor, they patted the hero amongst them on the back.

He sighed, tried to relax overly-tense muscles once again. Saw the men milling about shift startled expressions for ones of amusement. Kids would be kids, no matter where they were. He wouldn't have it any other way.

Oddly enough, that shock had been the thing to finally convince him to relax, at least enough to stop treating everything like it was going to bite his head off. Not enough to drop his guard.

He could finally see the tiny village for what it was though, not merely an impersonal pit-stop on their way up. Not a last reprieve before their ascent into hell. These were homes. These were families. Strange. Devoid of the fairer sex, populated by heavily bearded, plebian peoples speaking a harsh and guttural language. Goats strung up on every other corner. Harsh way of life. A different way of life, he admitted.

There was life here. Though they were the biggest excitement in the village's history, they were unimportant in comparison to what needed to be done. Water needed to be hauled in, crops needed tending, buildings needed mending and the talk that would surround them would come later. Work was needed now, for survival. Not so different to them, then.

The wrinkled elders filtered through their dismounted unit, unimpressed. Hobbling on rough-hewn canes and shooting them suspicious looks, but nothing else. Others followed. The children went back to playing, their laughs carrying over the terraced field and into the valley below. Naruto grew bored in the sudden onset of calm.

He was grateful for the chance to stretch his legs from the relatively cramped bed of the truck, but that was the extent of it. They were not supposed to stray far from the vehicles, though the engines were turned off and none of the more seasoned soldiers seemed in any hurry to go anywhere. Of course, the second the NCO appeared from within the chief's hovel they would be expected to leap back into the vehicles and gone by five minutes ago. He could borrow their time, and never the other way around.

Hurry up and wait.

Which, as it turned out, wasn't that long. The strange but now familiar wool discus (which he noticed almost everyone in the village seemed to be wearing) atop plastic spectacles burst from the dark doorway, their commander skipping down to them with a spring in his step, weapon already slung over his shoulder and no longer forgotten by the entryway.

Instead of leaping strait into the passenger seat of the lead Landrover, he instead slowed down in front of the five greenhorns, a large fuzzy bundle the size of a cask under one arm.

"Here." He handed the hairy roll over to Naruto, who struggled to keep the tight folds from bursting on him. He carefully unwrapped it and produced a handful of the same scruffy-looking headgear. Five of them, to be exact. Each in particular shades of drab wool, hand woven and stitched, the five new recruits distributed the gifts among themselves evenly, not quite sure what to make of the strange ordeal, but not wishing to be offensive.

Their lives were in the hands of others, after all.

"You looked cold." Which was not exactly true, but a kind gesture none the less, he supposed.

Still, they managed to sort out the rest of the bundle, having to switch Pakhuls amongst one another, finally finding one to fit the giant in their midst. The rest of the package consisted of wool blankets, also equally rough and eclectic, but certainly thick, and warm.

Disarmed by the unexpected largess, four of the five turned to their commander to profess their thanks.

Only to find that the man already saddled up and ready to go. Never one to miss a beat.

They threw themselves into their truck even as his impatient words reached them. The vehicle was already moving up the narrow road. Box-huts becoming brown sugar-cubes, washed away by creamy snow as they drove away.

* * *

" _Do you know what you are doing here?"_

 _Necessitating a practical answer, unfortunately, to the existential question._

" _Our objective, as it stands, is to locate the remainder of the dissidents, and either eliminate them or force them to flee into zones controlled by the Northern Alliance, or the main coalition forces to the East."_

 _He was all focus. His fingers ghosted over lines drawn weeks, days, hours ago, following each iteration like reading years on tree rings. Hazel eyes honed behind thick lenses burning holes in the page. They spoke to him, but it was like they didn't, and preferred to remain mute._

" _That seems pretty simple. Even if they are hiding in caves, wouldn't it just be easier to send in a conventional force to drive them out? Bomb the hell out of them, first, if needed?"_

 _Naruto was nowhere near a strategist. Years of hanging around his pineapple-haired friend had not imbued him the man's expertise through osmosis. But it was a sound strategy none the less, given the lack of intelligence._

 _Their leader said nothing, staring at the map._

" _But…where are they?" He asked the map, not them. His finger tapped on an area which had been marked and erased a dozen times over, chewing on his lip. Then his head shot up and he looked Naruto strait in the eyes, and he couldn't help but freeze._

" _You know seals." It was not a question. It felt like it was the first time he was actually talking directly to the blond, but he didn't wait for his response._

" _At least, you know them well enough, I am sure. You know how the Perfect-Curve seal works." He tapped several places on the map thick with gradient lines, heavily ensconced in the mountains._

 _Naruto hid the breath he sucked in. The man had used their word for the mysterious construct, not what the outsiders named it._

" _Yeah, I know it."_

 _How could he not? It would have been criminal to neglect studying the seal that kept the Shinobi Nations hidden for so long, virtually cut-off from the rest of the world. It was as much a work of art as it was a potential weapon. A crime against humanity and the humanities to ignore._

 _It wasn't even a physical change that kept their people sequestered for thousands of years. At least, nothing that could be seen from the ground. Light, gravity, and somehow geometry bent at the location of the seal. It distorted perception of the landscape from above, effectively surrounding everything within it in a valley of bent light and false numbers. Sure, the outside world had calculated the Earth's surface time and time again, but in that vastness of matter and distance, errors in calculations could be easily shrugged off. In the planetary scale, a few hundred kilometers was nothing. It was further reminder of just how insignificant they were to the rest of the world. Their entire existence, on the head of a needle._

 _And no one… well, no one as far as they knew, had ever broken the spell. People might have stumbled upon them and wandered into their midst unknowingly from the ground. But like everywhere else, geography determined borders. Their lands were cut off by impenetrable forests and jungles, parched deserts with no end, mountains so high that there was no oxygen left to breath, and oceans (lakes, in reality) so vast and tumultuous that it was ludicrous to try and escape them. Human curiosity only went so far. But even the most intrepid explores were dissuaded when it was not evident there was a mystery in the first place._

 _Cartographers had not been happy with the discovery. Millions of maps and globes had had to be redone in the wake of first contact. World governments were certainly off-put by the sudden appearance of a swath of land, bigger than some of the smaller European Nations, suddenly spawned in that vastly uninteresting plane to the west of Mongolia, bordered only by insignificant nations too busy concentrating on their own survival._

 _Yeah, that seal._

" _So what does that have to do with-"_

 _His question was cut off by the short man staring him down with a cocked eyebrow, finger impatiently drumming on the map laid out in front of him. Impatiently waiting for the slow-witted shinobi to come to a realization, which, to be fair, the others in the tent also failed to ken to. But he had trained to be Hokage at one point, so it was no surprise that he was the first to come to the realization._

" _They are using the seal to hide their bases?"_

 _The man stared at Naruto like the answer was obvious, which he supposed it was. But if it was so, the implications were staggering. Not just because it would make it nearly impossible to find their targets remotely, but it also by necessity meant that they had one or more ninja in their ranks. A Traitor._

 _Could he do it? Could he look another one of his kinsmen in the eyes and take their life? After everything they all had been through? He felt betrayal from them. He felt guilt, too, for betraying his own morals, suddenly regretting whatever foolish optimism had spurned him into leaving his home and getting involved in another war. The last one was fought as the war to end all wars. How could he be so naïve? How could they all be? There would always be another one, waiting on the horizon._

 _He could see why the rest of the world was so bent on continuation of bloodshed. Technology, the gun especially made things impersonal, even more so than their ninjutsu and genjutsu techniques every could. It made killing easy. But it also made it a necessity. He couldn't hold back. There was no restraining a bullet. He would have to kill his opponent, to save the ones he now surrounded himself with. He was supposed to weigh these individuals and their morals against one another, with death to the loser. Judge and executioner in each second. How could he do that?_

 _Because he was ordered to._

 _The rest of the debriefing passed in a dreamlike haze. Details such as the route, stops on the way, suspected locations of their targets and the like washed over him to break on his comrades, who were thankfully professionally reserved. He tried to be. He did what he could, be he couldn't unburden himself from this profound revelation._

 _He unpacked and repacked his bag in silence and in robotic automation. Rote memory kicked it when it needed to, and when the evening's tasks were done, his feet found their way outside. To the night sky, to the stars, to the only thing that was familiar to him anymore._

 _But even there he found only confusion. The redhead teammate that came outside to talk to him was a stranger. The stars in the sky were overcome by blackness. He was a stranger._

 _Un etrangére._

* * *

"What the hell was that about?"

Tenten's question muffled by the scarf still wrapped over her face echoed in his ear, returning him to the next day, the present day.

"I mean, what the hell? Was the only reason to stop there to pick up blankets?"

Not that she was complaining. They had been equipped for a desert, not high desert. The blankets lost their coarseness when the barometer dropped past a certain level. Even though the sun was shining high, it was still a bit chilly in the open top vehicle. Not that they could tree-hop. Though there were a spattering of green throughout the otherwise sparse landscape, they were too far apart, and to devoid of branches to be of much use. So, they were relegated to being ported around like grain on a cart, which while an interesting experience, was also slightly demeaning to those who had spent most of their lives running to and from places.

Naruto shrugged. The man and his methods were still a mystery that defied solution. He didn't doubt that he had an ulterior motive for stopping in the town. Though it appeared like none of the villagers had ever seen one of their kind before (soldier, not shinobi, he reminded himself) it was not out of the realm of possibility that the officer had extracted some sort of information from the dourly important man. Naruto knew from hanging around his godfather, that information was disseminated in the most unassuming of places. And a few well-placed words could be worth more than all the gold in the pocket.

Although, sometimes that helped too.

He resigned himself to the fact that he would have to learn some Arabic. And Pashtun. And Persian. He may have looked somewhat more inconspicuous, with his new native headwear and layer of dust masking his lighter skin and whisker marks. But the moment he opened his mouth, the gig was up. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.

It was possible to rely on others who seemed to have the gift of tongues. Conrad seemed to be well versed in at least half a dozen languages from his homeland (1), and seemingly just as many from abroad. It was impressive, but not all that astounding. He was smart, like Shikamaru, but focused.

There was a good chance that their temporary minder, the man called Tarek, who now resided in the passenger's seat while the darker man drove, would also have some knowledge of the native dialect. He wondered if that was the only thing the stoic man knew, as it suddenly occurred to him that he could ask one of the more veteran soldiers in their group about their enigmatic NCO.

He leaned over the center bar, draped with their too-heavy body armor to offer some minute protection to the otherwise unarmored vehicle.

"Um, excuse me…." He looked for rank but found none on the drab jacket the man wore, so he opted on the safe side. "Sir?"

"What?" They were proceeding slowly enough that one could be heard past the constant wind, and Naruto could clearly hear the impatience behind the man's response. He might have taken offense to the tone, but he wanted answers.

"What can you tell me about the commander?" Naruto crossed his fingers, hoping that the question was not too direct, nor to vague.

"What do you want to know?" The mustachioed man glanced over his shoulder in a cold stare directed right towards the blond. Dammit.

"Well…for starters, how about his name?"

Naruto figured it was a 50/50 shot. He would not put it past the short man to order his troops not to answer any of their questions. Just to screw with the newbies, hazing not an unfamiliar concept. He almost lost hope when the grim face pealed back into a smirk. But was partially relieved when he received an answer.

"His name is Michelle Belletriste."

Naruto almost felt tears of pure joy cascade down his face. But they froze before they could leave his cheeks.

"…or at least that is what everyone calls him."

At the very least, Naruto and the others now had **something** they could call their fearless leader. But once again, the answer brought up more questions which surrounded the man.

"What do you mean? Why do they call him that?"

Tarek shrugged and turned back around in his seat, and once again Naruto felt that his luck had run out.

"It was a name he chose for himself." Naruto's attention was immediately reengaged. "It's a tradition, in the Legion, after one has done their service, they get a new passport, with a new name. It's leftover from when the Legion would take in all kinds of scum and criminals." Something about his tone betrayed the fact that he believed this still to be the case. Though no telling if he was referring to the shinobi, or himself.

Apart from the man in question not looking old enough to have completed a full tour, Naruto himself had met just about every variety of criminal, and that man, Michelle, had none of the trappings. Although, if he was here, then he could kill. That was a given.

"So, why did he choose that name?" He wanted to comment that it sounded particularly feminine, even to his untrained ear. Curious, for a man fit to lead the hardest of hard individuals.

"Michelle. St. Michael _en englais_. Slayer of dragons, and the patron saint of paratroopers. Even an infidel such as you should know our unit's symbol."

Naruto thought back to the decorated chip of metal he had been handed upon completion of his jump-training. The winged figure had meant next to nothing to him at the time, it was just a symbol stamped out of sheet metal. Just like his headband. He scratched the back of his head, chagrinned on two fronts.

"Oh, yeah. Well, what about the other name?" He found all of the outsider's naming protocols to be strange, arranging them from back to front. And especially the traditions that stemmed from their convoluted religion which tended to be repetitious and boring most of the time. He had met his fair share of 'Josephs' and 'Johns'. But this was a man who chose his words carefully, and it would be foolish to assume that he did not chose his names without that same reflection.

This time there was a long pause as Tarek regarded the far-off peaks, just as Commander-Belletriste had done not long ago. Lost in thoughts both comforting and alienating. He spoke, like a sudden gust through the valley.

"Belletrist means 'someone who writes works of art'." Naruto withheld the instinct to snort. That was far more presumptuous than he had been expecting. He briefly toyed with a comparison to some of the other more arrogant individuals in his life. Did he consider his subordinates works of art in the making? Did his guidance mold them into the perfect soldiers?

"It's a joke. Belle. Triste. Beautiful. Sad. His service has been as perfect as it has been…unlucky." The more veteran soldier did not withhold his own contemptuous sound. "As if all of our stories were not tragic, no?" Naruto felt vulnerable, held within the other man's sidelong gaze. Was he talking specifically about him, or just legionnaires in general? It took a special breed to join their brotherhood, it was true. You had to be a kind of desperate, or foolhardy to throw your lot in with the likes of them. Helped to be both.

Regardless, Naruto felt that he had pressed his luck far enough, and did not want the already tense conversation to migrate over to his sphere. Their temporary minder did not seem to mind his sudden reticence either. Doubtless keeping one to oneself was common practice. Don't let yourself get too attached. Don't ask too many questions. Unless personal matters impede on duty, leave them where they are.

He glanced back to see the rest of his mismatched team regarding him warily and out of the corners of their eyes, trying as much as they could to keep their focus on the ever-potential enemy around them, and not on what could only amount to the latest gossip. He suddenly felt an emptiness in the pit of his stomach regarding those curious eyes peering out from behind masks of sameness. How well did he know even those he deigned to call friends? He clutched at the ingrained mark on his stomach, buried underneath cloth and metal.

How well did he truly know himself?

* * *

"Distance, 2600 meters."

"Got it."

"Wind speed, 30 knots. West. Adjust 3 clicks."

"Mm-hm."

"Negate that. Scale back two."

Tenten was glad she was not the one holding the rifle as she twitched at the third voice looming over the female sniper team's shoulders and overriding her decision. Discipline be dammed, she was about ready to smack some sense of propriety into the short man who hovered over the two of them too close for comfort. She would have too, if not for the fact that he was probably correct in his estimation and current position, knowing more about the mysteriously available ammunition than either the two of them.

"The wind negation seals have been shown to work for almost 2 seconds. At this range, will only effect you for the last 500 meters or so."

The two lying prone did some quick calculations in their head.

"We're getting about 1000 meters per second?" Karui piped up from her position behind the Swiss-made optic. "It's a 1100 grain bullet, too, right? That's pretty good."

Belletriste nodded behind her even though she could not see it, she could feel its tacit approval, though took no comfort in it.

"It's not much more than standard, but the fire seals give us very consistent burn and the complete lack of smoke is an obvious advantage."

"We're losing our window here." Tenten quipped back.

"Sorry." Karui focused her attention back to the mechanics of what she was attempting to do, hand reacquainted with the thick pebbled grip and cushioned buttstock which sank back into her shoulder. Dry eye blinked, found the target again in that impossibly clear frame. A bunch of toy soldiers on a dusty diorama. Despite her partner's warning, they hardly looked like they were moving from this distance. Her crosshairs returned to the hunchback one. The one with a radio. Picking his way down the slope.

"Dialed in." She intoned in practiced exasperation. "Do I have permission to fire?" She waited for answer. The clock ticked by.

Tenten was busy grinding her teeth behind her spotter's scope, glaring at the same group like her gaze alone could put bullets in them. So self-assured that her superior would try to usurp the command, she hardly noticed when he failed to say anything, impatient silence reigning. She started, glanced back over her shoulder, only to see him staring out in the same direction like a near-sighted hawk.

"Well?"

"Uh," Tenten faltered. Damnit. Shifted back to her position, tried to ignore his warm breath tickling her ear. "Go ahead."

There was a decidedly anticlimactic, soft, crack followed by yet another a split-second later as the round went supersonic. They skeletal-looking weapon kicked back into the redhead's shoulder and her hand automatically came up to eject the spent case. They waited.

One.

Two.

T-

Silently, the form crumpled, tumbled down the slope with a blanket of scree trailing after. The other forms scrambled, disappeared like cockroaches in the light.

"Not bad."

The commendation came from halfway down the slope. He had already removed himself from the two-man team before either operator could glance back at him. His interest was suddenly more piqued by whatever the overly-large lowlander was cooking up. He took a whiff of whatever was wafting off the single-burner pocket-stove which Manu hunched over.

"Smells good."

Same tone, same appreciation for a job well done. If there was a difference, none of them could see it. Then he walked back to the further truck without additional comment.

Neither woman could take much solace in their incredible achievement. They would never be able to brag about it, and the one who had seemingly the largest investment in seeing them do well had summed his elation into two words of middling praise. Plus, it was never such a grand thing to take a life. Perhaps their commander's appreciation of a well-cooked meal was justified, in that context. Didn't help their pride as skilled warriors, though.

As they moved to pack away their newly tested equipment, the empty brass shell rolled down the side of the hillock, and was plucked off the ground by a gloved hand. The two women watched as Naruto brought the still smoking scrap metal up to his nose and took a long whiff.

The smell of fire chakra was unmistakable, as was the fetid scent of hypocrisy. He held the open end up so that the waning sun could illuminate the now hollow interior. Sure enough, it revealed the same sort of digitally rendered and engraved scrawl that followed them wherever they went in the company of their new group. It was especially an affront to his sensibilities. After all of those years dedicated to learning the art, to have it so casually applied- by a machine no less! – was something that reawakened feelings he thought he had long since buried. It made him want to crush the metal cylinder as flat as a coin.

Instead, he pocketed it under the scrutiny of his fellow shinobi who were warily watching his anger grow.

He sighed and put another patch on the aging damn he had erected against his baser emotions. He could take solace in the fact that the seals he encountered thus far were in fact travesties. They were a mockery of the art they attempted to emulate, true, but because of that they would never reach their full potential. Sealing was an art form, alive and unable to be caged by this world which ruled by numbers. They could try to understand the process all they wanted, but without a practiced chakra user to support them, they would be unable to recreate even the most basic of storage seals, such as the case here.

He gave a lopsided grin to his cohorts who split their attention between the careful disassembly prosses of the weapon Naruto was sure cost about as much as their transport, and warily appraising his erratic disposition as he inspected the shell casing. He was trying to reassure them, both of their own competency as well as his control over personal distaste for the object. It might have worked, or it might have only caused them both to offer him tight-lipped smiles in sympathy.

"Well, for what it's worth, I think that you two are damned amazing."

The three looked over to where their fifth member was keeping a close eye on their flanks, in case any more stray adversaries came wandering uninvited into their encampment. Conrad grinned heartily back at them with a mouthful of pearly white teeth.

"I mean, 2600 meters, that's gotta be one of the longest shots in the world, right (2)?"

"Who knows? And who cares?" Karui huffed as she wrung her hands together, trying to clear away the smell of sulfur and the dust of gunpowder that wasn't there. "It was just one shot, and you saw yourself, there were dozens of them. How are we going to get anywhere taking them out one at a time? It's like trying to chip away these mountains with a kunai!" For effect, and to partially placate her own mounting frustrations, she did just that and whipped the knife out of one of the pouches on her hip and sunk it handle-deep into the rock-hard earth.

"Don't go looking for death."

The gargantuan voice came to them as a whisper they wouldn't have thought possible from the large man still stirring his concoction. He did not meet their collective eyes, but as soon as they saw his hulking visage in the dim glow of the gas burner, they could feel his presence once again and even catch the faintest of hints of spice carried forth on the wind.

He offered them no other words of wisdom, not that he needed to as they all sunk into a tranquil lull of introspection, the shinobi veteran mildly chagrinned at her own outburst. Naruto treaded over to the inadequate fire-they couldn't afford an open flame for fear of drawing the enemy towards them- and crouched down on the balls of his feet across from the Belgian.

Manu stopped stirring and took a spoonful of the steaming ruddy broth and gently blew on it, before handing the instrument across the way to the blond who gingerly accepted it. He gave it his own measured breath for caution, and then downed the taste. He looked pensive for a heartbeat before nodding and handing the only utensil back to its owner.

Manu nodded back in silence as the others wandered in around them, taking seats around the pot and draping themselves in the recently acquired heavy wool blankets. It was the other squad's turn to keep watch anyway. The sun was very quickly descending past the snow- crested peaks, as it did that time of year, and soon it would be night, and bitterly cold once again.

They watched the man work in silence until through yet another unspoken signal he let them know the concoction was ready. Mess-tins were distributed with nary a clatter, and the piping hot contents distributed evenly, along with a wax-paper wrapped package of grainy flatbread they had also picked up at their last stop.

They ate in silence, savoring for once the presence of spices and actual flavor in their meal, and used that as an excuse not to talk to one another. They told themselves it was prudent to do so in enemy territory, and that it was disrespectful to the cook to mince words alongside the carefully prepared goat. But the truth that most of them knew was that they still did not know one another, and were afraid to find out.

It was an irrational fear, one easily hidden in the days which passed by with them ending each night in exhausted unconsciousness. But now it was clear that in these days carried over by interminable waiting, that the human need to fill the silence would soon become insufferable. Despite this longing for human interaction, though, each held their own reticence for fear that talking might accidentally stir some revelation within themselves, and that suddenly they might not be able to understand what they were still doing there.

They might question what drove them to press on where others had failed. They might question their purpose, freezing and hungry and bristling with bloodlust on some remote peak in a land that they had never even thought of prior to arrival.

But the illusion they were willingly under was necessary for their lives to continue. Each of them had a reason for abandoning their previous existence and found solace the only way they knew how. It was the easiest path, for them. And it could only be surmounted in one of two ways, either of which was guaranteed in their position. Death was by far the most likely, and in some cases almost a relief for those that did not know how to continue living.

To continue living was harder, because then one needed to believe in something more strongly than that comforting illusion of duty and necessity. But dreams were even harder to believe in those days. The only ones they had now came in the fitful vestiges of sleep. And most of the time, not even then.

* * *

The lack of dreams was a good thing for shinobi though, and it was within this realm of featherweight sleep that Naruto was able to awake even before the hand touched his shoulder. If the African truck-driver was shocked by suddenly being confronted with azure eyes which snapped open in a radiated glow, he did not show it, and under the starlight of the last hours of night his face remained placid.

"Uzumaki. Moses." He whispered. It was their watch.

Naruto had to prod the other young man with his elbow to wake him, but only gently. The two got up as the man who woke him spirited himself away to his own sleeping bag. They disentangled themselves from the huddled mass of bodies camped next to the extinguished stove and ice-cold vehicle. Next to him on the ground, Tenten groaned as she turned away from her lost heat source and buried her nose into the side of Karui's bag.

The two males could sympathize, as soon as they exited their own bedding it turned out to be bitterly cold, and not even the hefty wool blankets could do much to retain that comforting glow of the synthetic down and warm proximity of friendly bodies. Neither could they have a fire, and so the two resigned themselves not to freeze to death as they huddled together in a shallow foxhole on the crest of the small ridge.

Naruto was understandably irritated by this latest development. Even during the war, night watches were only a formality, and could at least be done in the presence of a fire. Though in Fire country, trees made it impossible to see far in any direction, the innumerous branches and dead leaves that littered the forest floor and canopy made sneaking up on an encampment nigh impossible. Here, even though it lacked the forewarning of the debris, one could see forever in every direction, especially perched as they were on a relative peak. So the two had their own advantages and disadvantages, thought right now the intolerable cold was the most obvious.

Although, the thin and crisp air made everything clear and beautiful, at least in Naruto's opinion. Though it certainly wasn't anywhere near as fecund as his home, the mountains began to carve out their own niche in his admiration. He began to see why Karui seemed so enamored with them, and despite their lack of natural chakra, he began to feel a physical connection as he surveyed the shadowy giants imposed on their pinpricked canvas.

This landscape, these peaks. It was the same Earth that he had always tread on. Though the majority of the world had been hidden from them for the longest of times, they had never ceased being part and parcel of the planet in its entirety. Even as he felt humbled, puny as he was in that shaded landscape, he felt more accepting of his presence in it. To know that the snow that fell here, was once the rain that fell on him as he lay dying in the Valley of the End was a strangely comforting thought.

And as he thought about it, he felt more at home, more connected with the landscape than he did his own comrades. It was a confusing, and admittedly frightening thought.

"Burrr!"

Conrad shivered beneath every layer he had, trying to voice his complaints quietly but unable to silence his chattering teeth. Tearing himself away from the temporary nirvana that he had achieved, Naruto regarded his trench-mate before he sighed quietly to himself and unwrapped his own cloak only to drape it over the man's shoulders.

"Here."

Wide, ivory eyes looked at him in the dark. Naruto ignored them and turned back to his watch.

"It must be pretty warm where you're from, huh?" Having met less than cold tolerant people from Suna, he could easily surmise this simple fact given that the other man had about as little fat on him as most shinobi would, anyway.

Conrad looked at him, almost as if Naruto had asked him if he were a lizard, but then smiled and shook his head.

"Yeah, no kidding. This is the first time I have ever seen snow." Naruto nodded in sympathy, though his first time had been back in Kumo, he could understand the physical and mental shock. "Most of the time it never gets below 10 degrees." Naruto nodded after he managed the conversion over to more familiar units, but then Conrad got a very quizzical and skeptical expression on his face.

"What about you? Aren't you cold?"

Which, admittedly, was a fair question, because even though Naruto had on several layers including a waterproof parka, he could still feel the sub-zero temperatures stinging at his face, and he resisted the urge to wrap his scarf tighter around his nose.

"My… Chakra keeps me warm."

Conrad nodded solemnly, like Naruto was revealing a grave secret. It was close enough to the truth, though. Naruto supposed he could have revealed the whole story, it may have even helped to pass the time. But for some reason, he felt more uncomfortable now than he had before the end of the war. Supposedly his secrets had been declassified and handed over as a gesture of good faith to the other governments of the world, but he could not help but feel like he was under continuing scrutiny for it, especially here, especially under his particular command. He was sure that man, Belletriste, knew about it, but for some reason revealing it to his other comrades in arms made him skittish once again.

Though that was something he appreciated about the Conrad. He relished and soaked up information like a sponge, but had an intuitive amount of tact to know when he should not press a subject. Really, if anyone would be able to handle Naruto's story outside of their little ninja club, it would probably be him. Still, these were new secrets he had never shared, and he was reluctant to come clean with his former countrymen, let alone this… foreigner.

He almost laughed at this label. How could he have the gall to call anyone a foreigner these days? They were all foreigners in a foreign land under a foreign government following a foreign directive. He didn't laugh though, because upon this realization he understood completely for the first time that he was alone.

"Hey."

Conrad whispered to him, and Naruto realized that he had let this disparaging thought show on his face. Hoping it was covered up by the darkness, he reapplied a mask of alertness, just in case his teammate had spotted something suspicious.

Instead what he found was a gloved hand pinching carefully two fingers worth of dark colored squares. He stared at the proffered object, unable to identify exactly what was being offered to him, before the faceless voice supplied the answer, in the form of a question.

"Want some chocolate?"

Though he did not know if he really did want any, having never tasted it before (3), Naruto decided it best to accept the reciprocity of his comrade, and whispered a thanks as he carefully took the near-frozen squares, warmed to be edible only by virtue of being stashed in a an inner pocket. Still, they felt like they would be quite difficult to chew.

He held it up to his face and tried sniffing it. But either it had little scent or his nose was already stuffed to the brim that he couldn't discern what it was to be like. He had heard of it before, but to his knowledge never encountered it during all the meals he had had outside of the Shinobi States. If he had, then it had only come as part of the homogenous mess than constituted field rations and whatever glop they were forced to scarf down in the mess hall. Still, it was supposed to be good, both as a stimulant/ anti-depressant as well as in taste, so there was not harm.

He broke off a chunk with his sharpened canines and let the cold chunk warm and then melt in his mouth. It was like ice at first, then it became slightly sweet, then bitter and… rich. He took another nibble, savoring the little he had. To his left, his careful ears picked up the same minute snap as Conrad did the same.

They sat there in much the same silence as they had earlier that night. And yet, even lacking the presence of the others, and despite the palpable cold that had encroached on them after sunset, between the bittersweet substance and the satisfactory company he felt warmth begin to spread throughout his veins.

It certainly wasn't Ramen. But, it was good, in its own right. It was good enough, for now.

Things were good enough, for now.

* * *

"What the Hell do you want?"

Old words, for an old language.

"Now, now, Prime Minister, such adversarial words are not becoming of a peaceful head of state."

Terumi Mei did not pause while perusing the latest debriefing handed to her by one of her nameless subordinates. She missed her loyal Kirigakure shinobi by her side, as much as she detested the man who had come to see her. Though she had not dealt with him perhaps as much as his fellow countrymen, who were spread thickly throughout the new bureaucracy, his reputation preceded him by a healthy margin and reached her ears by those same subordinates.

Things only ever seemed to change on a surface level at best. Though they were actively trying to put on a front of pacifism, it was always an uphill struggle to maintain neutrality, and their more surreptitious nature always shone through.

Just as it was with Shimura Danzo. Even in the brilliant dawn sunlight, a dark aura preceded him into the room and it was this unease that made the young leader of nations ken to his presence. Danzo had matriculated well into the new order of things, he looked as peccable as ever, exchanging his plain black kimono for an equally inoffensive business suit, which actually seemed to do a better job of concealing his numerous afflictions. All of which were bodily, and none of which dulled his ever-conniving wit.

While formidable as an ally, to be on the receiving end of that wit was a position that few envied, and even fewer lasted long in. Though he was forced to renounce some of his more 'direct' fixes to obstacles in deference to the newer systems in place, he seemed handy enough in manipulating the inter-government politics to his favor. And if Mei had been paying attention enough to care, she may have even speculated that he enjoyed this new game even more. Prolonging his will had always been one of his strong suits, and even well into his August years as he was, the old War Hawk still had patience within his remaining years to achieve whatever he desired.

So, irksome or not, it was necessary to heed the man. The Kage, turned full-blood politician, quietly sighed and set down her day's reading, matching the man eye for eye.

"Well?"

If it were to be a battle of patience, there was little doubt that the elder man would come out on top. However, given that he had been the one to seek her out, rather than the reverse, she could afford to spur the man on a bit.

The man nodded gravely, not at her, but rather at the paper she had just set down on the oak slab in front of her.

"You have read the reports."

She chose to interpret the man's words as a question, rather than let the obvious demand fan her already smoldering temper, and nodded in return.

"And." Again the man questioned, but didn't.

"And what? You sought me out. What is so important as to warrant a personal meeting when a phone call or message would have sufficed."

"Please, Prime Minister, you know as well as I that either of those options would take unprecedented amounts of time to worm its way through your office staff, and by the time my advice reached you it would already be moot."

That was of course, the principle idea. The redhead thought briefly of the demure woman outside her glassed-in office no doubt on pins and needles waiting for just such a call, and privately lamented the death of that system. So much for the infamous obfuscations of bureaucracy.

"So then, out with it." She whipped the paper off her desk and tossed back her omnipresent stray crimson lock, reading the punctuated headlines drawn up for her by her staff. "Are you here to brief me on the latest decline in export numbers? Or what about those gaijin skiers who got caught in an avalanche in Kumo? Or is this about Inoichi's continued demands for an increase in rural police? Tell me: which shit-storm are you here to enlighten for me?"

She shook the paper between her two perfectly manicured nails, wishing she could turn it to ash. Things were difficult enough back when she was the definitive leader of an independent nation. Now, she had been given less power, but with no alleviation from responsibilities. And blame, let us not forget the blame. Like it was her fault when tourists decided to do stupid shit! Back when they were autonomous shinobi nations, when something like that happened, it was just another case of the weak weeding themselves out of the food chain. Now that they were forced to participate in this farce of a world government, they had to abide by international standards which frowned upon discrimination according to ability.

It was ludicrous! There was no reason they should have to abide by such arbitrary standards!

Well, there was one. She had to remind herself that they were now the weak ones, and that these seemingly feeble-minded consortiums had the power to wipe them all off the face of the map kept her towing the line, and perpetuated her paperwork-induced misery.

She repressed a shudder, thinking about other foreign leaders she had seen age perceptibly in their short tenure, and made a mental note to check for crow's feet later.

Though she took some solace in the fact that she would always be less like a prune than the man in front of her, whose creases only deepened when she facetiously recited off her list.

"You know what I am talking about."

Enough dancing around the issue then. She might have once been a ninja, but she detested the circuitous and indirect nature of politics.

"And? What of it? Why should I care if some of our former citizens are going off to fight in some other country's war? In case you haven't noticed, we have plenty enough vagabond shinobi as it is with nothing to do for themselves except be a constant nuisance and a drain on our already taxed infrastructure."

She would never be heard to say it out loud, but she agreed with the veteran politician about his stance on their current defense reserves. The limitations imposed on them by the United Nations and during the Kusagakure agreements were as laughable as they were debilitating. To take a population with over half of the working class employed as soldiers, and then to tell them that they could only have a standing army which amounted to less than a quarter of that was a plan only a committee could brew up.

True, they would still proportionally have a good deal more active soldiers than any other nations that they were aware of, but the current unemployment crisis was as a direct result. On top of that, one could not compare the quality of their defenses by the same measure. Sure, their infantry was, by definition, superior in every way to the other countries, but the eye-opening thing that they had been forced to realize not long ago was that war was no longer won by numbers of soldiers. When weapons existed that could be deployed leagues away from the farthest reaching Jutsu, there was no room for battle, there was no contest.

And so far, they were one of the few nations to be denied access to these weapons of mass destruction. Not only that, but with the destruction of the Gedō Mazō statue, they had lost their own WMD's. The world, as they knew it, was way out of balance.

"The problem is not with those prodigal sons of our soil, but with their employers. Or should I say, their employment." He stifled the Prime Minister's demand for clarity with an open palm, and she let the interruption slide in favor of elaboration. "The question is: why now? Why are our forces now being allowed to join their ranks when they had nothing but fear and resentment of us before?"

She did not have an answer for him, or rather, she was just too worn out from the non-stop problem solving that had dogged her ever since she had entered office after a close election. Far from being a token admission to diversity, Terumi Mei earned every ounce of respect she had garnered, and fought for her right to rule, tooth and nail. But now, in this world where people she had never even seen governed her and her country's fate, she wondered if she would not have been better off losing in the runoff.

She stared out of the wall-sized vista, idly thinking about the blond-haired boy who she dreamed about every time she woke up, and every morning inspired her to attack her duties with renewed vigor, for the assured hope of a better world. The sun continued to rise, right into cloudy skies.

"You don't see it as a good thing?" She asked superfluously, not believing it herself.

"No, I do not." Nothing, as they both knew, ever came without a price. "Especially when they are being used to fight against fellow shinobi."

This froze the hot-blooded woman cold, and her wide-eyed gaze turned back from the cloudy ocean scene to the somber scowl adorning the man's face.

"What?"

"That is the problem when one doesn't have full control over their citizens." He intoned, potentially drawing up his old argument in support of total indoctrination, but shelved it in favor of dealing with the crisis as it was. "Although the majority of our ex-shinobi are currently registered in the ranks of 'legitimate' (Mei could feel the man's disdain for this word) governments, there are some noticeable exceptions."

He produced a thick envelope form inside the fold of his suitcoat, and accurately tossed it to the seated leader who deftly caught it. Mei thumbed the tri-folded bundle between her two fingers, but set it down on her desk for later, careful appraisal. She gave the man in front of her all of her immediate attention.

He nodded towards the missive. "That is a list of all the potential citizens that have joined the ranks of groups opposing the Coalition forces." In essence, simply a bunch of pages copied from the international Bingo Book detailing all of those shinobi that were currently unaccounted for. Danzo would have been embarrassed to admit this paucity of information, but he was actively seeking to rectify it. There was a learning curve to this Brave New World's technological marvels, but he would not let that stop him.

"So what would you have me do?" She glared at him, as a focus for all her frustrations at the moment. "Send hunter-nins after them? In case you have forgotten, the rest of the world would consider our forces in another country an act of war, and we have already turned down an invitation to join the Coalition."

He nodded curtly, not needing a history lesson.

"This is merely a curtesy call. Something to keep you on your toes. I have already started to take care of the problem."

Mei was half-way across her desk, ready to strangle the conniving man who would go around her back to achieve his own objectives. Even when faced with the insurmountable totality of feminine wrath, Danzo did not move a muscle, and it was this unflappable countenance which kept the young diplomat from permanently erasing the man's presence.

"I am not conducting myself foolishly, I assure you Prime Minister. Nor am I manipulating powers within our own government." This admission quelled some of the smoldering anger within her, but did not stop a thick ooze of lava from dripping down her frothing mouth and burning a hole in her solid wood desk. It did not mean that she still did not distrust him, though.

"And? I am supposed to believe you?"

"Yes."

This one word answer reminded her of the other character trait highlighted to her about the man, and she backed off, for now, hoping that his earnest desire to see his country prosper really did govern his intentions. She got off the desk, but did not relax nor sit down.

"I am a diplomat now, Terumi-sama." He deferred to her condescendingly. "I have a limited amount of resources to work with, but I know how to use them. It was a simple matter to apply some of my excess budget to convincing individuals in foreign governments to look the other way when it came to our matters." He neglected to mention the healthy promise of favors he also had to dole out. "It is a mild comfort to know that this system of governance is familiar in its corruption."

Her frown deepened, not wanting to admit this to be the case, but taking some solace in their own apparent success.

"So I take it you had a hand in getting the foreign governments to accept our troops?"

Danzo shrugged.

"Some were easier than others, but yes."

She breathed heavily and turned back to the window, hoping the familiar blue would sooth her fiery temper.

"So then: what now? Do we just wait for our people who abandoned their home to do the right thing under their superiors and track down the traitors?" Though she hesitated to use that word, unsure of which was which in this case.

"In essence, yes." He admitted, and Mei felt the cloudy sky begin to dampen her mood.

"However, I would hope that you would have some faith in your people."

Her people? She supposed they were, but when did that begin? When had her boundaries been expanded past those angry waves?

"You of all people I would have thought would have more faith in the Uzumaki boy."

She did not overtly react to his statement, but he could none the less see her shoulders tense and her hands clasped behind her back tighten at the mention of this name, as he knew they would.

So, Naruto was with them, huh? She mulled over whether or not she was happy with this revelation.

The cutthroat politician ghosted away into the dark recesses of the office, and left his de-facto leader to her thoughts, his objectives completed.

She stared a long time out of her glass prison, and into the murky depths of the omnipresent gloom outside her window, hoping and praying to see just a little bit of sun peak through those gray blankets. With great reluctance, she admitted that she would have to once again rely on that young man to surpass his previous accomplishments and bring the whole world back from the brink of destruction.

She vowed to try her best to help him any way she knew how, but was discouraged knowing how much her hands were tied.

She would have been even more discouraged, had she known the totality of the situation. How could he be relied up to fill in for the heroes absent in their broadly expanded world, when he was missing such crucial parts of himself? It wasn't fair, and she knew it.

Life never was.

* * *

Notes:

1\. In South Africa, though the dominant language is nominally Afrikaans, the local dialect of Dutch, many people speak English in addition, because of the numerous tribal languages such as Zulu, Xhos, Sotho, Tswana, Tsonga, Swati, Ndebele, Venda, etc. Almost no one knows them all, and very few know even a handful, finding English to be a far more useful alternative, but they still exist to good extent in the predominantly tribal regions of SA.

2\. At the time I wrote this section, the longest kill shot in the world was 2500 meters. Just in the past few days, that record was smashed by a Canadian sniper at 3,450m. Still, this is a really long shot, and for them, practice, to get used to using round designed around fire chakra and seal-enhanced rounds. The normal weight for a .50 projectile is about 900 grams, so this would be a pretty heavy bullet, giving the projectile more momentum, and thus less susceptible to wind change, but without the counter-gravity seals, more prone to the effects of gravity.

3\. Do they have chocolate in Naruto? They shouldn't. Unless the elemental nations span the equator, they should never have been able to grow cocoa plants, and even if they did trade for them for some nations outside, it would have been prohibitively expensive, such as was the case in Japan during the Tokugawa period.


	4. Boots

**Hello People!**

 **I assume there is more than one of you ;) though I must give a special thanks to the guest reader from SA for your informative review. I am very grateful and will try to take into account what you say for my future descriptions.**

 **Just to clarify though, I am basing Conrad off of the comedian Trevor Noah. If you want to read a truly amazing autobiography I would highly recommend his book. He does an exceptional job describing life as a "colored" person in pre/post Apartheid South Africa. It is a very sensitive subject, so I know I am taking a gamble by including this as part of the story, but if one is really paying attention, the whole story can be interpreted as pretty politically charged.**

 **Not that I am trying to make any statement with anything I write here. I do have certain principles I stand by, but ultimately I just want to create something here that people can enjoy reading, whether or not they agree with what is being said. As long as it is written well, and makes sense, that is all I can hope for.**

 **In that spirit, may I wish everyone in the States and beyond a happy Independence day. Let's celebrate the day that made us a country where we can write dribble like this, criticize and enjoy life with impunity.**

 **Cheers.**

* * *

The snow like sugar glass gave way under heavy footfalls.

Crunch.

The human chain of thirteen meandering upwards into overwhelming whiteness.

Crunch.

Wool cloaks in place of fur, matted down with ice blessedly masking their presence in the storm.

Crunch.

Except for those mute steps, which echoed louder in his mind than the howling winds around them.

Footsteps like heartbeats.

They had left the trucks far behind them like cumbersome shells of caterpillars, and once again Naruto found himself in the lead, but not necessarily leading. He was the head, but not the heart of their cause. Cold and lonely in this winter wonderland.

He briefly recalled a drunken soiree many nights ago, back in the barracks in the Mediterranean. A scrawny looking pine tree festooned with garish ornaments so heavy they looked like they would snap the poor thing's branches. A fellow recruit animatedly telling him a crazy story of a jolly old fat guy and an ostracized deer with a glow-in-the-dark nose.

Not much of that drunken night stuck with him, certainly not details. But the gist of the folktale like the key of a musical piece tagged along, and now percolated up in his mind in this wintry scape. It was almost the same time of year, after all. He felt like that misanthropic animal, gifted but unappreciated. And forced to accomplish an impossible task all within the span of a single evening. A single lifetime. Over and over again.

He figured he was missing the intended impression of both the story and the holiday surrounding it, but given his own experience with the winter celebration, one could hardly blame him. This Christmas day was as much a mystery to him as everything else in the outside world seemed to be. They did not seem to put much stock in it, here in Afghanistan.

And it wasn't like they got the day off, either. Belletriste had rousted them from sleep earlier than the sun once again, and they had taken off shortly after that. They each ported their individual loads, plus a hefty amount of supplies that had apparently been pre-loaded into the trucks before departing. There was enough to sustain them for several months away from civilization.

The lead drivers, plus the two in charge of their own vehicle had removed a piece from the steering column of each vehicle, slipping them into their packs. Presumably to disable them from use by unwanted third parties, though Naruto had his doubts as to how effective this might prove in the long run. They had left all of the scrolls containing extra fuel in the back of the trucks, and that in itself was enough of a prize for anyone lucky enough to stumble upon the disguised vehicles. Still, it was not his place to question.

As it was not his place to question when the Commander ordered him to the front of their train. Any sort of tactical formation would have proved near-impossible in the narrow goat-paths they would now follow in pursuit of the _dissidents_ (1). But the one in charge had been very specific in having him at the forefront. It was obvious, of course, why. At least if one thought like a ninja. Even though Karui was probably a better sensor of chakra than he was, she was no Sage. And in this practical wasteland it would be all too easy for him to spot the telltale usage of the geographical distortion seals, as they would appear as a gap in the blanket of life even amongst a backdrop of nothing.

Once again his NCO presented him as an outsider in possession of a more competent understanding of the shinobi world. The most typical reaction to their presence was one of indifference. Awe and fear were contenders for second place, and both relied on the fact that the non-shinobi had no concept of how chakra worked. Strangely enough, despite the scientific community's fascination with them, everyone else wanted no part in the mysteries of their 'race'. Fear was easier to understand than empathy.

Not so, apparently, with this man. In fact, even though they were the only shinobi present, the whole unit seemed to be designed around taking every advantage of their abilities. Whereas the rest of the Legion saw their skills as a bonus, or even unwanted elitism, within this newly (re) formed unit, they and their skills were the locus.

Almost like a science experiment. And the soldiers around them were the control.

The monotonous trudging gave rise to these thoughts. It was not all that hard for him nor his shinobi teammates to walk on top of the freshly laid snow using chakra, but it was by necessity that they had to wait for the rest of the unit. Not least of which because they had no real idea of where they were going, but a more fundamental principal that Naruto could thoroughly get behind.

A legionnaire never left his teammates behind.

So as the first in line, Naruto was forced to crunch his way up through the obscured path, flattening the dry blankets of precipitation for those behind, to make it easier for them and their heavy loads.

It might have been grating to the shinobi to have to trudge along at such a sluggish pace, but for once Naruto didn't mind. He could not speak for the other two, but he found it relaxing in a way. Unhurriedly strolling through this whitewashed diorama. Apart from the bitter cold stinging his eyes, the purity of the landscape surrounding him was a relief from all of the artificial surroundings he had been subject to for the past year and a half. And amongst the labored breaths and whistling wind, there was no one hounding him with inane chatter or impatient orders.

Perhaps he could grow to like this. Maybe he could find contentment after all in this life after shinobi?

Of course even then it was not the end. In this seemingly repetitive journey upwards, they were going somewhere. This purity could not last. It never did. Just as the seasons turned one to the other, winter to spring, peace always gave way to conflict.

His gloved hand tightened around the grip of his slung rifle.

He would slog his way through, be it snow, pain or blood.

* * *

"No."

"No?"

The obsidian-haired man did not repeat himself, and continued to daub paint over the canvas in front of him, ignoring the perplexed, yet reserved presence behind his studious station. The old man's eyebrow twitched in a mild show of irritation and intrigue as the younger man blotted his brush lightly, giving depth to the cloud he was currently working on.

Truth be, the nonagenarian was more confused than annoyed by his subordinate's refusal. It spoke of something. A lesser man would find it to be the inefficiency of both the boy's training and his mental fortitude. But years had lent him the wisdom to ask when he was not sure. He suspected, hoped, it was something else. He decided to find out.

"And why not?"

Silence reigned in the small but well-lit workshop as the pale young man continued to paint, as if ignoring the follow-up question. But both knew that this was not the case. A casual brushstroke, and the unburdened sky was finished, and the artist appraised it with a blank look that hinted no pride in its completeness. He posted his brush in a waiting jar of water, turned around to face his superior full on, and planted his hands on the top of his thighs. Offering the older man the same expression he did the canvas.

"I don't think you could understand." It was a simple stated fact, so the man took no offense to it.

"And why not?"

"Because, of who you are, and what you are doing now."

"Oh?" His graying eyebrow poked over his eyepatch. "I thought that supporting Uzumaki and his naïve followers would illustrate my change of heart. Especially to those close to him, since they seem so averse to my previous actions."

The black-haired youth shut his already squinted eyes and nodded.

"I can see why you would think that." He opened his eyes and the beady black pupils shot out, poking through the atrophied defenses of a man too long away from the hardened shinobi lifestyle.

"But supporting Naruto-san, even if the effort is genuine, does not illustrate a change of heart. Nor in fact, does it do honor to his sacrifice." It was hard to imagine, this blank face speaking of such profound emotions, yet his logical certainty held the barest hints of passionate conviction which spoke volumes more than the words themselves.

"And what do you mean by that, Sai?" It was not in deference to his age, that he took a seat in the wire-framed stool across from Sai, but rather so that Danzo could bring himself to speak in a level, albeit newfound stance with his once-subordinate.

Sai gained a pensive look, noticeably vague, as he tried to formulate words to something he experienced only innately, and did not quite understand in himself.

"You are senior council to the Prime Minister, are you not, Danzo-sama?" He asked rhetorically. "Would you not say that this is much the same position you held before the amalgamation of the elemental nations?"

He concurred, not bothering to mention the sever decrease in clout that came along with the supposed promotion. Sai nodded severely again.

"So you see that underneath those western clothes and title, you are essentially the same person."

Danzo huffed, having actually managed to convince himself that he had turned over a new leaf in light of the world's latest paradigm shift. He had always prided himself on being one step ahead, and was hard pressed to admit that he did not see this one coming.

"And? I'm old, it's hard to change me. Is there something inherently wrong with resisting change?" Tradition was tradition because it worked, after all.

Said shook his head.

"No, there is not."

"Well then-"

"For you, there is." He quickly corrected.

The minutely abrupt interruption ushered in a hush throughout the studio, even the birds outside the window stopped chirping so that absolute silence could reign in on this milestone of insubordination. The two sat in silence, glaring one-sided at one another. Finally, Sai raised his hands and looked at his palms, devoid of any paint splatter much like the rest of his workshop, and even his denim apron which draped over his knees.

"You were the one who taught me, Danzo-sama." He spoke his former-master's name in absolute reverence, and even the old man softened hearing the admiration. "You taught these hands to be the perfect tools for taking lives. You taught me to be the quintessential shinobi, an emotionless, blameless and traceless killer."

He continued looking at his own palms in seeming disbelief that such unsullied digits could be capable of such a thing. He set them back down on his lap, and turned to look at a stack of completed work leaning against the bare wood window frame. His work. His legacy. More at least, than the bodies he left behind.

"But… that is not what this world needs right now. It does not need what I once was…" He turned his sight back on his former master. "…and it does not need people like you."

Danzo's hand tightened on the grip of his cane, and he shifted his weight the barest amount, surreptitiously taking stock of the numerous weapons he had stashed over his body. Even with the bright sun shining into the room, and the dark material of the three-piece suit he wore soaking up the rays, the temperature dropped for him when receiving this interpreted threat.

Sai saw all this, but did nothing.

"Is that a threat?" Danzo himself challenged.

Said looked him dead on, and once again donned an air of unreadability.

"No. Merely a fact."

He swiveled back around, ignoring the killing intent he had unwittingly swept into the room, and thus just as easily banishing it. He picked up his brush once again, and tapped it on the rim of the jar so that a few excess drops leapt off onto the sawdust-coated floor. He began to paint again, as if nothing had passed between them.

"So," The old man coughed once into his palm as he struggled to find his voice again. "it sounds like you are abandoning your shinobi training as well. I take it to mean that you are abandoning Uzumaki as well." If Sai had changed so drastically as to become a potential adversary or roadblock, then Danzo knew whom to blame. He would try to use this connection to sway his old pupil to his cause.

"No." Again, Sai did not turn around as he uttered the simple answer. But he did, after a beat, elaborate.

"If I were to again take up arms, even in support of Naruto-san, that would be betraying his faith in me and in the others. His personal sacrifice to bring peace to our nations deserves reciprocity. We must all fight to preserve this peace, and to do so, we must not fight. At least, not the way we have traditionally."

It had been difficult and convoluted to come to this conclusion, but Sai knew it to be inevitable. To go against their baser instincts was perhaps the hardest thing for humans to do, even harder than to become an emotionless killer. It was easy to live without emotions. It was difficult to live with them. It was easy to feel. It was harder to know why.

But, he truly believed, and Naruto had convinced him, that it was worth it. He had tried opening himself up to his comrades and allies, allowing himself a whole slate of new experiences.

Not all had been pleasant.

But now he thought he had found a steady state. One that he could be happy with. And he would do all he could to preserve that. For his sake. For the sake of all those who gave their lives for the peace they now enjoyed.

"Your teachings also gifted me with these skills." His brush glossed over canvas, bringing to life the summer rain falling from his creation. "Some say such skill is natural, but even though it comes easy to me, we both know that it was not without personal sacrifice." He referred to both his own, and the man watching behind him, unsure if he realized it.

"I may not have found my ideal place in this new world, Danzo-sama. But it is something I am good at, and reasonably happy to do. Perhaps I will find something that suits me better. Perhaps not. But one thing I will not do, is to perpetuate the world that made me unable to make that distinction, and the world that made you who you are inclined to be."

The brass bell hanging above the doorway was the only indication that the man was no longer there. It was still a curtesy, though, and Sai was sure that the man had heard every word of what he had to say.

"I will say inclined. I will not say destined. Because, even though you are an old war-dog Danzo-sama, I think that you may yet pick up a few tricks. I hope you find peace yourself before you ruin it for everyone else, though."

* * *

Not for the first time, the red-haired kunochi formerly from Kumogakure found herself mulling over the how and why of the situation. They were questions that could have been answered easily, if only she could be honest with herself. But that too was difficult, not knowing the woman she had become.

She could ascribe the transition from her former life to the one now, as a simple matter of necessity. A scarcity of jobs, and a paucity of skills needed to survive in a world undergoing a drastic change.

But now as she was, under the scrutinizing and downright fearful gazes of the denizens of some boondock village somewhere in the unfamiliar mountains of Afghanistan, she wondered if she had made the right choice. As a ninja she would have also experienced such looks, but not from the people she was supposed to protect.

True, anywhere else the shinobi could have gone in the world outside their enclave, they would have been on the receiving end of much the same looks at some point. But at least their kind could count on human apathy to take over after the initial shock of their foreign origins. In their current role and place they had no chance to remain inconspicuous. Their simple presence was enough to send the hackles of these isolated people into disarray, raising the tension between them and their little group, and resulting in a potentially dangerous situation that still required a subtle touch if they were to achieve anything.

Luckily, their leader and mascot did not seem to be deterred in the slightest at the reticent welcome, and though his gentrified traditional greeting was answered with a certain amount of hesitance, no weapons were immediately drawn on them, so she supposed that was a sign of progress.

Whereas in the last village, an unspoken truce or tacit agreement seemed to preexist between the military man and the local chief, with business between the two already arranged, here the exchange of pleasantries was awkward and strained on at least one side. The elder man who had spoken for the two-dozen members of his extended family had regarded them all and their weapons with a healthy measure of scrutiny. He did not invite them in to his home, and instead chose to conduct business on the sunny side of the village outskirts.

Which had been the first worrisome note. She could understand their hesitance to let strangers in so easily, but also recalled that by meeting them outside the village proper, they did not fall under the sacred protection their religion provided to guests. Not that she could trust the word of long dead prophets, anyway.

Karui wondered if this was how they looked, when first they regarded the foreigners who had shown up so abruptly in their midst. Circumstances had been admittedly different back then, as she could clearly remember from her firsthand experience. Active battle had made the mutual interaction between them easier, for sure.

But in the lull after victory, had there been this same amount of silent reticence and distrust between the two separate sub-species of human? Had the soldiers of the intervention regarded them as now she did these plebian mountain dwellers? Did they look as alien as she felt?

It was not hard to imagine. For the shinobi at the time it was a strange sight, these square-faced and oddly-dressed civilians standing toe-to-toe with trained shinobi, with their weapons descended from gods and their vehicles which ported them from the heavens like birds. And them with their bladed weapons as old as their inbred animosities towards the other villages, still stuck with an introverted view of the world, to them as large as their own borders.

Were they any better off, though, being introduced to the world at large, and the technologies which made their livelihoods all but obsolete? Karui certainly had her doubts, even as she scanned the muddy homes ensconced in the cliff-face, devoid of the satellite dishes and spider-web electrical wires strung up between houses which had been the framework for the last village they visited. These people seemed like they would have been perfectly happy to have continued their existence never once encountering them or their strange ways.

They would introduce medicine, education, conveniences which came with the modern world. But in turn, they also promised all the baggage that came with it.

She wished the people could simply forget about them, once they left, and return to their previous lives. She wished she could do the same.

The unique attention she and her female teammate were getting also did not help her to relax. Even though she was certain they were amply bundled up, though she herself was more immune to the frigid temperatures, the dozen or so men and half as many boys which met them at the gates kept shooting suspicious glances their way and their gaze lingered longer on them than even the gargantuan Belgian who stood a good head and a half taller than the second tallest.

Empathetic as always, the one male shinobi silently sidled up to their side, and in an ill-thought out action of encouragement, placed his hand reassuringly on Tenten's shoulder, causing the already high-strung woman to jump slightly. She swore lightly in her native tongue, but evidently not lightly enough. Faces blinked back like a light switch had been flipped, and immediately several things happened.

Naruto quickly removed his hand from her shoulder and placed it above his own chest to intercept the instinctive elbow thrown by the addled woman. The sudden commotion made their fellow soldiers shift defensively, and in response some of the onlooking villagers cradling ancient-looking flintlock rifles jumped a half-step up to the forefront.

The episode which lasted all of a micro-second suddenly brought their tenuous detent up to the brink of conflict, and on all sides action could easily spring from tension with one small misstep. Everyone on all sides of the relatively flat clearing waited on baited breath for the spark.

All except one. As if oblivious to what was happening around him, Belletriste did not tear his attention away from the graying man in front of him, and hardly missed a beat as he continued his subdued discussion in that strangely fluid accent of Pashtun he adopted. As if broken from a dream, the old man in his fear-frozen state blinked and turned back to the discussion already underway and picked up where they had left off, nodding slowly and responding in single syllables as if woken from a deep sleep.

The rising wave died before it could break, and ripples of relief fell back from the ongoing conversation, the man acting as a human storm break.

Tenten shot Naruto a silent apology, which he returned, scratching the back of his covered head, a never-quite banished habit.

But even though they weren't immediately about to attack one another, the damage between their transient group and the villagers had already been done. The stares on the two women became more focused and heated. The single utterance by one of them had betrayed their gender, and now the clock was ticking to get whatever it was that they came here for, and get out before anyone could raise any objection to their presence.

Though not outwardly displaying it, the commander seemed to recognize this sudden shift of urgency and quickly but carefully produced a wrapped package of goods they had unsealed well away from the village. Practical gifts, that they were going to use to barter for information, and hopefully gain the favor of this particular enclave.

The village elder seemed happy enough to receive the brown-paper package of fuel blocks, canned goods and medicines, but was obviously much happier once they were all well out of sight of the tightly grouped blocks of houses and terraced fields. The group could share that sentiment.

* * *

"Well, what's next?"

Once a goodly distance away from the small settlement, the swarthy second-in-command asked casually of the ranking officer. Tarek and a select few others seemed comfortable enough to ask these off-handed questions to their superior.

They all sat in a loose huddle among some rocks on the edge of a scraggly copse, thankfully clear of snow for the most part and hidden enough that they did not have to keep too vigilant a guard while they quickly scarfed down some rations and planned their next step.

"Good question." Belletrise responded as he downed a spoonful of congealed noodles and sauce into his mouth. He hardly needed to chew the mashed mess but did so anyway and used that time to adopt a pensive look.

From the side, the new recruits thought he looked particularly constipated.

"Well, after I convinced him we weren't Russians (2), he was more than happy to give me some answers." There was a mild chuckle that rumbled through all those within hearing, but the NCO gained a lopsided grimace. "Unfortunately, he said that they hadn't seen anyone except us for many months. So, looks like we're back to our old intel."

Groans were shared all around, for it would mean many more weeks of aimless searching for their targets who had all the time in the world, baring their resources holding up. Of course, their targets were sure to last longer than their recon patrol who were actively burning up energy, and would be forced to turn back before half of their rations were used up.

"Kuso!"

Tenten swore, much more quietly this time, just to her fellow shinobi who sat in a small group just at the edge of earshot. "It's like we're chasing shadows." The others were tempted to agree with her, for it had already been almost a week of hiking with them getting no closer to any encounters than Karui's mile-long shot. Not everyone agreed with her, though.

"Eh, not so much." Conrad quipped as he carefully folded up the carboard container of his finished lunch and stashed it in an empty pocket. He looked up and gave the three of them a lopsided smile. "If we were chasing shadows, you guys would have found them by now, right? Shadows are your guys' specialty."

It was flattering, if not untrue, and brought a small smile to each of their faces despite the disappointing news.

"No, we are not chasing shadows." It was like the forest itself spoke when the deep voice came from behind them. Manu who leaned against a nearby tree, head bowed and eyes closed in a broken silence. "We are chasing ghosts. The ghosts of human bloodlust."

The large man seldom spoke, but usually when he did, it was worth it to contemplate his statements. The four of them did so now, but would have to chew on them for quite a while before they could make any sense. But before that, Naruto had something else that he was thinking about.

"What makes you believe that old man?" He called out to the commander who was just finishing his own repast. The man shot him a smile in response, and in a voice no more above normal answered back. He knew the shinobi could hear him.

"What makes you think I do?" He too stashed his waste and stood up, turning towards where Naruto was still seated and walking closer, hands lazily in his pockets giving Naruto a sense of familiarity.

"And you?" He asked when he himself was close enough to hear the shinobi's response. "Do you trust him to be telling us the truth? Think that bit about confusing us with the Russians was just a ruse?"

Naruto did not immediately respond, he closed his eyes and brought his legs in so that he could sit cross-legged and perfectly still. Other non-shinobi shot him quizzical looks, but Belletriste stood there patiently as if waiting for the clock to strike noon.

Naruto reached out with his senses, long underused. When they had been next to the village, he had sensed multiple smatterings of trees throughout the hills, felt their natural energy permeating through the air and the ground. And with each ridge they crested in this land with snow-capped mountains like ruffled lace he was exposed to scores more ranging leagues away. But now that he was so close in proximity to one of them, suddenly his second sight became clearer.

It wasn't like stargazing, where the presence of another light would blind you. It was like hearing good music for the first time, and suddenly everything else could be judged to a higher standard, and the imposters could be filtered out. His senses caught a distortion, like a sour note in an orchestra sticking out like a sore thumb, just over the next ridgeline. He opened his eyes.

"No." He was no longer the naïve boy who blindly put his faith in everyone he met. He would always look for the truth in people, pray for it, but was no longer surprised when people lied to him.

"He's lying."

Belletriste smiled, as if pleased with the news, and in a way, he was too. It meant action at last.

"Good. Neither did I."

He nodded at Naruto before turning back to the rest of his squad, who were all paying the two of them rapt attention. He did not need to do much besides nod and everyone moved to comply to his silent order. Gear was stashed and webbing donned, and they were moving to a more defensible location within minutes, all with the barest minimum of noise.

"Finally!" Tenten whispered excitedly to a seemingly equally giddy Karui. "Some action." Some nods, some silent agreements. Naruto frowned.

Maybe.

They reached their nearby destination. A moraine of large boulders just underneath a local peak which faced in the direction of, and overlooked the village they had just left, and had once again ditched their heavier equipment. It was again a battle of wills against boredom. They would have to wait, now, for their adversaries to make the first move.

Naruto almost hoped that they did not. He hoped that he was wrong, and the old man in the village really had no idea where the opposition forces were hiding under both their physical and chakra-enhanced camouflage. He was not eager to go into battle again, which was ridiculous considering he had opted to join one of the corps most likely to be sent to such a hotspot. But perhaps it was the implied presence of fellow shinobi. People he had potentially fought alongside not long ago, now slated to be in his crosshairs.

Maybe he was just beginning to see how futile the struggle for peace really was?

But he banished these thoughts as he lay against the slope of the mountain, under the wool blanket and a mild Genjutsu applied by Karui, which hid him more thoroughly than the native lizards poking their heads out of a crag in the rocks. He could not afford to think like this, he could not afford to hesitate in the upcoming fight. For his own sake, as well as those of his comrades, the number of which he was happy to say had increased recently.

This was the most trying part. He wanted his compassion and protection to encompass as many people as possible. But in doing so, he was inviting only pain for himself, for it was inevitable that he could not protect them all. And there would be conflict even among those with whom he shared a bond. Those that believed in him, but also believed in their own ways. He could not bring himself to refute them, or challenge their beliefs. But in that case, he would be potentially forced to fight them.

He would win. That was inevitable. But just because he was the most resilient, the strongest, did that make his path the correct one? Did that make him the right one?

No. It just made him the one left.

* * *

Night had come quickly, and with it the opportunity.

Though his own natural night vision was above par, in this moonless landscape he was grateful for the advent of night vision goggles. Even though when illuminated his vision was accosted by the brilliant green hue which took a moment to get used to. Once he did, he noted it was a good deal clearer than the ones they had trained with back in basic. Once again, the mysteriously impersonal seals plastered all over the outside did not go unnoticed, but like those on the shell casing, he did not have the time to study them now.

" _Everybody plugged in?"_ Belletriste's voice came in crisp and clear in his ear, cordoned by slight static pauses before and after.

" _Alpha group, two, three and four?"_ A series of affirmations, Naruto's own quiet voice amplified by the throat mike came in through the headset.

" _Bravo one through four are good."_ He barely recognized Tarek's gruff accent through the electronics.

" _Charlie group checking in, we are good."_

" _Right then,"_ The four of them, Belletriste within arm's reach behind him on the left, crouched down low in a gulley which cut a path across the mountain side. In that moonscape bathed in the ethereal green glow, Naruto picked out two spindly forms picking their own way across the scree.

" _Let's get this show on the road."_

The four of them as Alpha group quickly but carefully snaked their way down and out of the gulley unhurriedly, more afraid of being heard than seen, but still being careful to hug rocks and not to cast shadows.

Even as his heart beat loudly in his ear and he felt his mouth water in anticipation, Naruto felt himself slip into a relaxed state. This was shinobi work. This was where he excelled.

He was by far the nimblest among the four of them. Predictable being the only shinobi, but he had to admit that his ranking officer could have made a fine ninja in another life. His small frame bobbed and weaved amongst the cobbles, head low and feet clad in lightweight _pataugas_ (3) barely touching the ground.

They had all changed out their heavier apparel for something high-speed low-drag. Those lightweight almost-boots replaced the heavy leather Rangers, and their loadouts skimmed down to just the bare basics. Their leader himself porting only a captured chest rig that was as much duct tape as canvas, and stuffing the rest of his equipment in the ample pockets provided by his smock.

Naruto did what he could to make his gear more comfortable, but swore that when next he had the opportunity he would try and have something made that didn't make him feel like he was wearing a formal kimono.

They crept down the hill towards the village silently, and waited there in the darkness and the outskirts of the dark buildings for their two targets to reappear from within. They hugged the dusty ground close, and Naruto could feel the cool earth try and rob him of his near-limitless heat to no avail. His blood was running hot.

For once, they did not have to wait long, for almost as soon as they were able to catch a moment's rest, the two presumed targets reappeared from the tight space between buildings, and began to make their way back up and over the ridge from whence they came, having ostensibly verified that the nosy outsiders had come and gone.

They followed carefully after a beat. Barely keeping up even with the night vision lighting their way. The two ahead of them flowed over the rocks like water, finding their way by memory rather than sight, and so had no need to watch for loose rock that might give away their presence. Still, this is what they had all trained for, and so it was natural that they would be able to keep them in their sights.

At least until the two now obviously armed individuals crested the ridge and disappeared from their immediate sight. They followed their trail carefully, peaking their heads over the ridge and not charging in as Naruto once may have done. They didn't want a fight here, they wanted to track these two back to where the rest of them were.

Luck would have it that they managed to see the two dart behind a cliff face not far down the slope on the opposite side, and seeing nothing waiting for them out in the open space between, the four, Naruto, Belletriste, and two others he did not know yet, hopped gracefully over and planted their feet solidly on the slippery face.

"WHOOMP"

He felt, more than heard the concussive shockwave, even as he threw himself to the side out of the blast radius. The headsets doing their job, and saving his eardrums the painful experience. But his vision was clouded for a moment in the wake of a wall of dust, separating himself from his comrades.

He rolled backwards down the loose scree, finally sticking his feet to the more solid ground with chakra once he was well and far enough away from the impact zone.

His senses found the intruders even before his eyes, and his hands found his rifle, trained on two silhouettes emerging from within the dust cloud. His finger wavered over the trigger for only a split second, hesitating because he did not know the location of his other teammates. But only for a second, as his shinobi instincts tensed his muscles for him.

He barely felt the rifle jump, barely heard the cracks muted by both the silencer and his headset as the two shapes crumpled without dignity and rolled down the hill.

Having already taken care of their own tail, Naruto made to dart back into the settling cloud in search of his teammates, when across the narrow divide he heard the incessant clicking, like a caffeinated cricket, of Belletriste emptying the magazine of his MP5SD into another set of targets. He admonished himself for not giving the man more credit, and remembering his priorities, he ran over to the source of the noise and looked to the direction where his commander had been dumping his rounds.

He emptied his own magazine downrange without aiming much. Giving the two of them some breathing room, and as he now saw, time to get their injured comrade out of the way. The man at their feet was luckily enough conscious and hastily applying his own tourniquet to the sucking leg wound.

"Mortar crew, 2 o'clock. See them?" Belletriste said evenly as he exchanged his empty mag for a full one. Naruto looked out into the dark night, and at the furthest extent of his augmented vision he saw the scurrying forms perched upon the mountain top, only partially concealed by fallen rock. "Think you can take them out?"

Naruto cursed to himself. The NCO latched onto the collar of the injured man and began dragging him behind cover. Naruto was sure his rifle was more than capable of reaching that far. But Tenten had been right before. He was a shit shot. Still, he had no option but to succeed.

He reached into one of his webbing's specialty pouches and drew out a small handful of shuriken, these ones plastered all over with his own brand of paper tags. Luckily for him there was only minimal wind, and the flock of projectiles soared true through the night. The matte metal barely registered in his display, causing barely a shimmer in the green light. He saw the crew all ready to drop another round into the barrel of the tubular weapon.

The explosion that encompassed the cliff face lit up the night like a false dawn, and temporarily shut down his electronics as the green glow rapidly reached a nova-white brilliance. He turned away so that the device could reset themselves, but even in that briefest of pauses, in the wake of the monumental shockwave, a fusillade of fire opened back up on him.

He threw himself over to where he saw his two teammates disappear behind cover, feeling the stray shots pelting all around him. There had to be an additional 10 men shooting relentlessly at them. His NCO did not seem to be all that bothered by the change of plans, however, as he deliberately administered first aid to his wounded colleague. It was to be expected, as it was a regular SNAFU. Situation normal, all fucked up.

And luckily for them, just as planned.

He would still rank Shikamaru as the more intelligent of the two, but Belletriste had enough experience it seemed to counter their opponents' treachery.

The sound reminded Naruto of cicadas in summer, back home. And the sight of the rounds whizzing over their heads was like a swarm of fireflies dancing in the night, as the tracer rounds lit up his recovered display. This concentrated volley of fire, though, was going the other way than before. Suddenly the shots that had been pestering them, nibbling at the rock which served as their defense were alleviated, as Bravo group took up the slack.

"About time."

But even as the veteran soldier uttered this disdainful remark, another group of unfriendly people skirted their way around the far cliff face opposite their defensive location. Belletriste wasted no time in shouldering his weapon and preempting their return fire. His shots went true, but the subsonic ammunition did not seem capable of doing much damage at that distance, and did nothing to stop them from scrambling to cover and answering in kind (4).

He clicked his teeth as he threw himself bodily over his injured comrade, still pulling the trigger in the hopes of a lucky headshot or that his fire might discourage them from getting bolder. But it was clear that he needed some help dealing with this latest development.

Stopping himself from instinctively forming his favorite hand seals, Naruto instead forced his fingers into something he hoped would work.

By now, he did not need to shout out the name of the technique, and realized that it was better not to so that the enemy would not know they were facing a shinobi, even though that may have given them the psychological advantage. Nevertheless, they had the advantage of surprise which was fully utilized as the nigh invisible ball of wind shot out into the night, and dislodged a series of boulders perched at the top of the hill just above the newcomers.

Naruto ignored the reverberating screams and turned away from their imminent demise, opting instead to search for their fourth teammate that had been lost in the chaos. He found him lying prone in much the same location they had left him, and Naruto darted out towards him, praying that he was just unconscious and that he could bring him back to the safety of cover.

"Look out baka!"

Although meant to warn him, the familiar insult caused him to pause for a brief moment, and it was just enough time for the previously-subdued group of hostiles to get a bead on him running across the open hillside.

He slid to a stop next to the fallen soldier as the shots impacted all around him. He whipped around and started unloading the remainder of his magazine without stopping to fathom how the group had survived the rockslide he had caused. His shots were too few, and not accurate enough he soon saw as his gun clicked empty and two of the darkly-clad forms reemerged from behind their own cover.

Before he even had time to make the critical decision over whether to change his magazine and hope they were bad shots, or to run back to cover and abandoned the potentially still alive legionnaire, the choice was made for him as two distinctive cracks rang out and the two men toppled over on top of one another like bowling pins.

He didn't think as his hand on the gun's forearm scooted back and found the trigger just in front of the magazine well. The baseball-sized projectile was almost painfully slow in its arc, but as the two remaining enemies emerged from cover to extract vengeance for their friends, Naruto couldn't help but find the expressions on their faces tragically comedic as they saw the grenade headed their way.

Compared to the other explosions that night, this one was anticlimactic, but the silence that followed it was deafening. It was a relief.

The exchange of fire between their Bravo group and the first set of adversaries petered out, and Naruto could vaguely hear Belletriste ordering them to stop firing on the shared com channel. It might have been dangerous to advance so quickly into territory that they had just won over, but they needed to capture one of them alive, and in that respect, time was of the essence.

He was aware of the minimal chatter of Bravo group as they circled around the backside to check for survivors, while Naruto himself looked down at his feet to the man lying still, covered in a thick blanket of dirt. He his hands and eyes brushed over the potential corpse, looking for signs of injury, before his hands found the jugular vein. There was a pulse, and he sighed in relief.

"Is he alright?" His commander's voice appeared behind him.

"I think so." He felt a sigh rack his body, and his found his hands shaking. But it wasn't out of fear.

" _Everything good down there?"_ The disembodied voice came in loud and clear. He swallowed before he answered, tasting the remains of gunpowder in the air.

"Yeah, seems to be."

" _Good,"_ Tenten's voice quipped. _"You owe me one."_

" _Um, make that one for the both of us."_

Naruto felt himself smile despite the near monumental failure, reveling in the knowledge that his countrymen still had his back. However, it was yet to be determined if their efforts had been worth something. They would have to do a search among the remains to figure that out. Still, that would come later.

He had to force himself to think one step at a time. Thinking too fast lead him to question decisions. Question why he was feeling such a rush of excitement in the midst of such wanton violence.

"Yeah, I suppose I do." He admitted, although he was still perplexed as to how his manmade rockslide had been dodged so easily by people without chakra and the benefit of intensive training.

He was able to exchange his fledgling smile for an answer. He got up and walked over to the site of the four bodies taken out by bullets and bombs rather than crushed by rocks. He looked up the hillside and the view that greeted him was unfortunately not made any more unrealistic by the green tint.

A perfectly symmetrical and concave rock wall had been spawned out of the mountain side, halting the loose boulders in its cup. Its blatant presence sticking so unnaturally from the otherwise smoothly eroded hill stabbed him as deep as any knife blade. It was undeniable proof that they were up against fellow shinobi. He wondered what his other teammates were thinking about it. Given that they took out two of the survivors, they must have seen his technique be blocked from their vantage with Charlie group up upon the hill.

"I take it, this is not a friend of yours."

Naruto glanced apathetically behind himself, seeing Belletriste hunching over one of the corpses, exposing the face permanently etched with an expression of shock by lifting the head up by its long, matted hair. Naruto glared at him for the morbid joke done in poor taste, until he appreciated the face of commander and blanched as he realized he was serious.

He only had to glance at the scrunched-up face of the bearded man to ascertain that he had no idea who he was. Then he had to go around to the other three and was blessed at least with the small favor that their bodies landed face up. He had held his breath until the last body, but in all it had been fairly easy to see that none of these former dark-skinned and scruffy enemies was from the elemental nations. He looked back to his commander and shook his head in a relieved negative.

"Hmm." Belletriste hummed. "Too bad." He let the body slip from his grip with a wet scrunch before standing up and looking around in the purest darkness. "That means that your friend is still out there." His hand automatically rested on the heel of his slung SMG, while his other went to his throat. Naruto made out the quietly issued orders given to the other units scattered in the night.

"Finished mopping up? Well, take your time, be careful. Have the other two check the rest of the targets when you are done. How are the casualties? Hm, I see. Well, could have been worse then, but still, not too great for a trial run."

As soon as his hand left the call button, Naruto accosted him.

"Why do you keep calling them my friends?" He questioned his superior officer. He could, and had, tolerated a lot in the form of verbal abuse. But the way the man had expressed himself left the distasteful impression in Naruto's mind that Belletriste was accusing him of being in cahoots with their enemies. Either that, or he knew something more about their targets than he was letting on.

Were the ninja they were after from Konoha? He had no way to know. And that did not sit well with the young former-shinobi.

The man looked back at him, somehow finding his cold stare despite having the night vision goggles cocked back up on his head.

"The one who did this, are you saying they are not a shinobi?" He gestured to the preternatural outcropping of rock. Naruto faltered, once again caught off-guard by the sincerity of the rhetorical question he was posed.

"Of course they are."

"Well then, they must be your friend, no?"

Naruto felt his fist clench, and without knowing it, took unconscious stock of his remaining kunai.

"No. Not all shinobi are my friends." He ground his teeth as he recalled just how often that seemed to be true.

The sudden look of shock that appeared on the young-seeming face almost caused a mirrored expression on Naruto's.

"Really? I thought it was you who united your people?"

This time Naruto could not hold back that reciprocal look. Belletriste had danced around his knowledge of Naruto's past, but the sudden almost-praise was so uncharacteristic of the obfuscating man he could not help it.

"Well… I guess you could say that." He shook his head sadly in contradiction of his words. "But that doesn't mean that they are all my friends."

A younger him might have come back with a vengeance, assuring him that it was simply not yet so, that he would work night and day to rectify that mistake and bring every last one of them under his uplifting sphere of influence. But more and more he was accepting that some simply did not accept, nor appreciate what he had done for them.

"Then, they are your enemies?"

"Yeah… I guess you could say that."

But even this he knew was a lie. He had known it longer than he had many other truths, ever since he faced Zabuza and his apprentice Haku on that misty bridge so long ago, he knew that that line was severely blurred.

"No… maybe they aren't."

But then he realized that wasn't a good answer either. What would his superior officer think of him? He was hesitating in the face of people out to kill them and destroy their objective. That hesitation was a liability to any sensible military man who wanted to keep the integrity of his unit safe.

But Belletriste somehow seemed to miss this faux pas.

"I see. Then they are simply _les dissidents_ , no?"

Naruto blinked away the fatigue beginning to set in during the fierce mental debate raging inside of him. He was confused. He always thought that the word was one and the same for enemy. He failed to see a distinction, and expressed as much.

Naruto could see his NCO struggle to retain a dignified visage at what was apparently an extremely ignorant question. It was the closest thing he had ever seen to a laugh come out of the man. But that did not bother Naruto so much, he was after all, used to it.

" _Les dissidents_ are simply the ones we do not agree with. This is who the Legion has always fought." He shrugged in his usual uncaring way that reminded Naruto so much of Shikamaru. "They may be the enemies of France. They may be the enemies of the world. But this does not make them the Legion's enemies. They are simply the ones we are fighting now. There is no reason they cannot also be your friends."

He cocked his head, regarding Naruto's befuddled expression at what was to him a truism.

"We don't always agree with our friends, do we?"

But that doesn't mean we have to kill them, Naruto wanted to say. But before he could a voice came in on his, and apparently Belletriste's headset.

" _Commander, we have a live one."_

In comparison to the swaddling darkness, Belletriste's face lit up like a lightbulb and he all but skipped off into the darkness, hushing a shout back at Naruto stuck in a paralysis of incredulity.

"Come, come. Vite! Vite!"

Out of the darkness came Tarek, and another whom he was fairly certain was Ahmed, half-dragging between them a limp and clearly injured rebel. Though they had been assured he was alive, Naruto had his doubts looking at the blank and bloodied face. His beard was but stubble compared to the other fighters, and most might have already been singed off by the close proximity of an explosion.

"Bon soir, monsieur. Are you alright? Are you able to talk to us?"

Belletriste crouched and stuck his face right next to the near catatonic man, looking somehow both concerned and sardonic at the same time. He frowned when the man only groaned in response, not even able to speak in his native dialect, let alone the darky contorted French he had greeted him in. He stood back up and began to speak to Tarek in his commanding tone.

"Tarek, set the man down and go get the full medical kit from Charlie gr-"

Even before the languid shot cracked the otherwise recovering peaceful night, Naruto had released a kunai he unknowingly had palmed a split-second preceding, sending it flying at the source of the foolish potshot.

The shooter standing on the crest of the hill dropped the ancient Jezail and looked down at his killer with a quizzical look. Naruto's wide eyes met the young man's-rather the boy's- and held it in the handful of seconds before his hands fell to his chest where the knife was imbedded hilt-deep in his sternum. Naruto watched in dispossessed horror as the boy, no doubt from the village they had visited earlier that day, moved his hand out into the scant moonlight to regard the blood that coated it with a morbid fascination. Then he collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

Behind him, Naruto's comrades were in muted uproar, slung weapons were suddenly shouldered and most of the men were crouched down or behind some kind of cover, looking for any other potential threat they had overlooked.

Naruto just stared at the scrawny body which had slid down the small hill to where their squad was in disarray. He might have chided them for such unprofessionalism, had he not also nearly missed this potential threat.

But he could no longer think that way, not of them, and not of the young man he had cut down. How could he even reconcile his actions in the pretense of the mission at hand? He was just a kid. To call him an enemy was laughable, and to say that he had some sort of disagreement with Naruto was making light of both of their actions. He could not gather his thoughts, and so just watched the slow cascade of blood flow out from under the face-down body.

Likewise, behind him, the only one who had not immediately dove for cover stood over the other corpse also now lying face down. Or rather, whatever was left of his face after the lead marble had impacted it and exploded out the back. Belletriste too just stared at the now useless body, his face equally unreadable. He kicked a golf ball sized rock out of the deceased's hair petulantly and sighed, looking up at the sprinkling of stars in the unfamiliar night sky.

"Tabarnak."

* * *

1\. Literally _les dissidents_ means "someone you do not agree with". The Legion has traditionally referred to whomever they are fighting by such means. Legionnaires are not supposed to be from France, so that even though they are being ordered by French officials to fight, they may not have any personal reservations regarding whomever they are fighting. This has always been one of the more 'romantic' aspects of the Legion.

2\. Russia invaded Afghanistan and got mired in a war there from 1979-1989. Though this story is supposed to be set in the early 00's, villages there are so remote that it would be hard for them to learn of the war's end. Especially when you consider that there was fighting among tribal groups for the entire period after that. But it is still kind of funny that someone would mistake them for Soviet invaders. Which did actually happed to some soldiers in OIF.

3\. _Pataugas_ , as best translated "splashers". Sounds strange? What about "sneakers"? Same concept, just French. These are boots that look like suped-up converse, and have been a staple in the French army since 1947, with very little changes. You can actually still buy modern ones today, and I will personally attest that they are very comfortable and durable.

4\. Contrary to what video games may present, while the MP5SD is accurate and very, very quiet, that comes at a tole. To be quiet, the round needs to be sub-sonic, which removes a lot of the lethality from the 9mm bullet. I have known people who have personally attested to emptying whole magazines (30 rounds) into someone and not having them go down. For stealth, it's great. In a firefight, it's pretty useless.


	5. In Hell I'll Be in Good Company

**Well, well, I'm back again.  
**

 **Thanks very much to my one vocal reviewer out there. rouge killer naruto I really appreciate your support as well as your first-hand experience. I will certainly take your advice when I have the chance. I would certainly like to do a scene in Johannesburg, or anything really to develop my OC character, but at the same time I want to stick to this being a fanficiton as much as possible, which means to me, utilizing what other authors have already provided us. I feel that with this latest chapter, I may have even broached this self-imposed rule already, but the main point is actually more to convey what happened pre-timeline, and I am using an OC to illustrate it. To be honest, I had actually considered doing this story 100% in southern Africa, during the bush wars and with the unit being the 32 Battalion. But my knowledge of your country is limited, as I have not yet visited, and I didn't quite feel comfortable doing that. Anyway, not to say it might not happen in the future ;) **

**And thanks to my silent viewers as well, though unless you follow and/or review its hard to quantify you, and even harder to know what you think. Even though this story is my own pathology expressing itself, I am still curious to know how many of you there are out there who actually care to pay attention. And if you don't, I am also interested to know why.**

 **Anyway, back to the grindstone. I actually have some downtime and I don't want to waste my momentum here.**

 **Cheers, prost, whatever floats your boat.**

* * *

 _He was flying…_

 _Only in the conventional sense. Even if he were to close his eyes, he would still be riding side-saddle with only his legs dangling out of the open helicopter door riding weightless on the jet streams. Despite that, the whole thing was very surreal, dreamlike as only he could imagine it. Being weightless, despite the external bulk which clung awkwardly to his body, being so carefree yet with such an important burden to shoulder with those by his side._

 _And yet that task, that missions itself, should have been a dream as well. A child's fantasy, the kind of thing recruitment posters would tout, offering that one-in-a-million chance to actually do something groundbreaking and significant with an otherwise wasted life._

 _They had always been the tip of the blade. Here now, scalpel-like in purpose and intensity. They were loaded up with an extra 20 kilos of electronic equipment, theoretically to help them better facilitate this task. It would do the extra thinking for them, recording everything of note and preserving it even should they fail._

 _It was supposed to be an opportunity, an honor, both to try out the new FELIN combat system, and to be the first ones in to investigate the anomaly. He couldn't relish that thought. He couldn't help but feel like they were a bunch of Guinea pigs._

 _It wasn't all bad, though. The mountainous terrain shrouded by the limbs of primordial trees which sped by in between his dangling boots was fairytale like, and harkened a reminiscent tranquility which reached him underneath the layers of cloth, flesh, and stoicism._

" _Wake up people. T-minus 30 until the incident zone."_

 _The voice of the AS532 Cougar's copilot crackled in over the radio. He rolled his eyes. As if anyone could sleep in this instance. Even if they had wanted to, even if the excitement hadn't gotten to them just yet, years of training could not be shrugged off so easily._

 _He glanced ahead, past the glassed-in cockpit, to where the 'incidence' was supposed to be. Nothing. Not even a shimmer to distinguish it from the rest of the cloudless blue sky that had followed them for hours now. He was a little disappointed, but he held that in reserve. They hadn't made it. Yet._

" _T-minus 15… 10…5…4…3…2…aaaaand here we are?"_

 _The copilot's inflection resembled the question which was on everyone's sealed lips. They had passed over the line of distortion which had confounded the outside world ever since its discovery with nary a ruffle. No turbulence, no sudden shift in scenery, no profoundly illuminating shift in conscious. Nothing. Just more of the same, untouched forest. All this preparation, all the hype and training for this very moment. Weeks, months, years of dedication, only for nothing to change._

 _Kind of like his life so far._

" _Mon Dieu…."_

 _And just like that, it all changed, like a prayer was suddenly answered. Or a curse realized._

 _The tree-line halted suddenly at the crest of a peak, and bordered one side of a wasteland. Scarred earth stretched from peak to peak in that shallow valley, with no end in sight. They had a bird's eye view of the end of days._

 _And in that desolation, a sea of combat churned. Hundreds, thousands of bodies swirled in and out together in a microcosm of struggles. There was no delineation, no set borders they could see. All of the bodies raged in and out of one another in small groups like whirlpools of destruction. A most apt description, for in some cases it was literal._

 _Even from their lofty height above it all, they could see the very elements of nature duking it out amongst the human figurines, water, wind, earth, and lightening indiscriminately carving swaths out of the battle. Ironically, it was only in the wake of these attacks by nature that any calmness could be found. For once they passed over an area they cleared everything away, all of the death and dismay was swept under the rug._

 _Their transport had slowed down to an almost-hover so that they could all regard the sight in due awe. After the initial shock had succumbed to their response to fight, they were able to distinguish a sort-of pattern. Some areas more than others stood out as a small handful of combatants were given an ample buffer. The natural disasters which surrounded them were especially devastating, and yet were clearly bent to the will of one or the other. Everyone else gave them the room they deserved._

 _Those were people to be avoided, if they could even be called such. It was hard to be atheist at that moment._

 _Once such epicenter stood out, being especially catastrophic. No wonder everyone seemed to be giving it a wide berth. Natural elements turned into attacks lit up the self-imposed stage like fireworks, and the very ground around the two combatants split asunder with frightening frequency._

 _Despite being so far out, so removed from the oblong circle of combat that lapped upon the edges of the valley, this was the center. This was where the whole thing would be decided._

" _Put us down over there."_

 _Their fate, however, was centered and decided up here. Ten heads whipped around by the only thing that could possibly distract them from the incredible scene playing out in front and underneath them. They each looked at the stern face of their grizzled commander in equal looks of shock and dismay._

" _W-what? Are you crazy? I can't land anywhere here! We'll be torn to bits!"_

 _Even the pilot recognized the man's insanity and they imagined he shared their look of incredulity. There was no sense in the craft landing in the midst of this chaos, even if it were possible. Their mission was to recon, go in, and try to figure out what was causing the disturbances which permeated through the worldwide observational equipment. The danger everyone assumed had been minimal, and hence why they only sent one team._

 _They were decidedly unprepared for this._

 _The veteran of half a dozen conflicts turned around from the cockpit, dismissing the pilot's concerns and focused instead on the men who would be most directly affected by his decision. He knew that regardless of what they had expected to find, they would not be prepared for it. Nobody could be prepared for everything, that was what their training was for. To prepare you to be unprepared._

 _The silver-haired man did not know himself why he opted to give the order, but once it was out of his lips, he knew it was what they had to do. Despite their status as 'elite' soldiers, they were legionnaires first and foremost. Whatever the outcome of his decision, it was inevitable that it would be sung about. Added to the lines of Le Boudin(1) alongside Cameron, Dien Bien Phu, Kolwezi (2)._

 _As always, they were expendable._

 _Not that there was such glory in fighting to the death for a cause that they would never understand. But the mere fact that they had been there. That they had fought. And that while they might not, the Legion would survive. The officer in charge of the operation did not know if those under him could appreciate that. But he did know that they would obey his command._

 _As the grim faces of determination set in all around, the deafening noise of the chopper was drowned out by the silent acknowledgment of fate._

" _Just get close to that zone over there." The older man pointed over the pilot's shoulder as he turned back to the cockpit. Behind him, stony expressions checked over weapons and gear for the umpteenth time, prayers were whispered silently to totems hidden close to the body, and mindsets were hardened with the flip of a switch._

" _You won't need to land, just get us close enough that we can jump out."_

 _The pilot shook his head, but complied despite. Toggling the joystick, the craft dipped over in the direction indicated, a zone of sparse combat that only appeared that way because recent destruction had made it so. He would do as best he could, but he was not about to land amidst all this chaos. His first priority was the integrity of his craft. He would get as close as he dared, but even that would be quite the drop. He wasn't about to risk deploying a fast-rope either. Despite the name, it would longer than he would like to disembark his insane passengers, and he was surely justified that he wanted them out of his hair ASAP._

 _In the back, he sat watching as the ground approached. Saw the miniature combatants grow from the size of ants, to the size of action figures, though this did not serve to make the fighting any more real. It was easier to see now how the elements of nature were being bent to the fighters' whims. The majority were being directed towards identical humanoid plants, which took little heed in their numbers being thinned with shocking consistency. There were plenty more to take their place._

 _Despite the incredulity of the whole thing, he managed to take some solace in this last observation._

 _Plant-people were the enemy. Got it. Now he had a direction to point his gun. He thumbed the safety-switch off. The ground got closers._

 _A nearly-invisible bubble of compressed air struck the side of the craft, dulled only partly by the downward force of the rotors. Still, it was worse than any turbulence that he had ever encountered. He was jolted, and felt his rear-end start to slip off the corrugated metal floor, and for one fleeting moment he was totally weightless. As his stomach climbed into his throat, he was overcome with the most curious sensation of elation._

 _He was flying._

" _Oh no you don't!"_

 _He didn't have to look to see the silver-haired commander latch on to the collar of his ballistic vest with his meaty paw and yank him back into the craft as it pitched dangerously off course. Other cries of surprise intoned all around and hands shot out to latch on to whatever available handholds there were. He even felt another grab him, now that he was securely back in the craft. He looked back up to see the wrinkled face of his superior smirk back at him._

" _Don't get ahead of yourself, kid. We're not there yet."_

 _He nodded courteously and scooted back to his original spot, grabbing the aircraft frame for support. Went back to watching the approaching chaos._

" _Alright! When I say go, first group jump! Try to find a flat area to land. For god's sake, try not to twist an ankle!" The man yelled over the drone of the rotors._

 _They all silently acknowledge the command. Counted down the seconds to its implementation. He watched the ground. Watched some of the faces turn up to looks at them in abject shock. Watched those same faces get swallowed up by the humanoid Venus-flytrap. It was unavoidable, they were going to cause quite the stir._

 _Suddenly there was a break. Just enough._

" _Alright! Go! Go! Go!"_

 _It was a long drop. He got that feeling of flying again._

 _Sucked when he landed, though._

 _Despite being churned up by whatever preternatural attacks were being thrown about, the ground was still too hard. His boots prevented his ankles from twisting, but it wasn't enough and he rolled to distribute the impact._

 _When he came up, he was immediately accosted by one of the plant-men. He didn't think about how hideously ugly it was up close. He didn't think about the sheer ridiculousness of the whole thing. He didn't think about the rest of the battles raging around him. He didn't think about the additional weight on his rifle dragging it down. He didn't think._

 _He just did._

 _Thought only returned to take his finger off of the trigger before he used up to much ammo, although it was probably too late for that. The thing stood there pockmarked with a dozen boil-sized craters . An incredulous pale face stared back in confusion, and not pain. It tottered there, not quite sure what to do with itself, before it collapsed. Rather than bleed in any manner, it simply dissolved away, dust to dust._

 _He watched it happen, studied it with curiosity more than fear. But it proved a distraction all the same._

" _Wake up!"_

 _He blinked as two more of the man-plant clones lunged at him from either side of their fallen brethren. His rifle was lowered while inspecting the dissolving corpse. It was already too late to wake up from this dream._

 _Whizzing past his head like mosquitos came a torrent of fire, shredding the two approaching plant-men into nothing but mulch. So much for using ammo._

 _This did the trick, though. Others were coming to back him up, he couldn't block the way. He had to push forward._

 _One step in front of the other, rifle pressed into his shoulder, finger carefully controlled this time, only touching the trigger when his sights passed over those abominations. This was what he was good at._

 _The bodies hit the ground. They fell just like men. It was no different. It was easier._

 _The tide of enemies ebbed for a split second. A replacement mag was in the gun before the other had hit the ground. Something in the corner of his eye, he spun on his heel. A hoard of them. Or was that considered a bushel? He laughed silently as he lobbed a grenade their direction. Incendiary. That worked._

 _His arm moved to change out the smoking shell, but as his hand fumbled about at the pouch on his thigh, he suddenly felt something constricting around him with the force of a Boa Constrictor. He saw the pale-white spikes start to encircle him, felt himself losing the ability to breath._

 _Panic set in._

 _He let go of his rifle, trying to reach for his knife strapped to his belt, but that entire part of his body was already being assumed into the corpse of the plant-man who had gotten the drop on him. His hand became mired in the organic cellulite and he was well good and trapped. He was sure as hell going to struggle, though._

 _Before he could try and headbutt the thing in its 'face' with the hardened back of his helmet, though, the thing let out a cry and the pressure constricting his chest was alleviated. He threw himself away from the thing and into a shoulder-roll._

 _He stopped on his chest, ignored all the equipment digging into him, rolled over to see the thing lamenting the sudden loss of both its prey and its limbs. Its cry was something horrid, yet natural, like the whistle of gas escaping. His gun was louder._

 _He stopped firing only so he could see past the muzzle-flash and watch the insult to botanica topple over. Only when the body began melting on the ground did he remember to breath. He stopped sitting up, letting his head hit the ground, wondering not for the first time just what he got himself into._

 _It was still an innocuously blue sky above. But that was suddenly blocked by the shadow of silver-haired man poking his face into his field of view. Or rather his mismatched eyes only, because he was wearing a mask and headband which covered everything else. He blinked, suddenly glad it wasn't his commander._

 _The man asked something. He couldn't understand, but recognized it was a question. He couldn't fathom an answer, so he just attempted a universal hand gesture._

 _Thumbs up._

 _The man smiled with his eyes, somehow. But that still reassured him and he sat back up, checking that there were no lasting remains of the plant thing on him or his_ _ **very**_ _expensive gear, thank god. He heaved a sigh, but got to his feet anyway, the silver-haired man pausing in his own assault to watch him heft his body off the ground, giving him an almost amused look. He tried to glare in reply, only to realize that his entire face was covered, including the drop-down eyepiece which was still broadcasting much to his appreciation. So much for small favors._

 _Instead, he simply nodded, and got one back in reply. They both turned at the same time, and were accosted with the rest of the strange battle, perhaps even stranger now that they had joined in the fray, still dancing around them._

 _He sighed again._

 _He did not sign up for this shit._

There were always a million things to do every day. A tweak here, a snip there. A bit of dust or dirt which had escaped her watchful eye. Every plant in her shop needed water, every plant needed tender love and care. Then there was the store itself, always in need of upkeep. It was an old building now, having been in her family's possession since her grandfather, and it was showing it now.

Still, every day she got up to make everything perfect as it was the day before. Every flower in the peak of bloom, every board of the floor polished to a mirror shine, every window spectacularly streak-free.

She spent no less time on herself. She was always perfect. Always slim, always done up as if she could waltz out of the shop any minute and into a fine restaurant. Just the right amount of makeup which never smudged once during the day- not on her watch. Between the shop and her temple of a body, there was no time for a stray thought, an uncoordinated action, there were always a million things to do during the day.

She always made sure of that.

But each day she always left time to smell the roses, literally. She cupped the azure petals in her slender fingers, admiring its graceful curves so much like her own, yet so much more perfect. So natural, yet one of only many things that had been made possible in the recent years, thanks to science.

So much good. So much not.

She took a careful sniff. This one, at least, was sweet. A crisp, clear scent. Clean, like mountain spring water. Too clean.

As she drew her face away, she looked past the single flower in its emerald bottle serving as its vase. Through the storefront window and out into the street, where a familiarly jovial face was making its way towards her humble shop. The sight brought a happy smile to her face where there was a only a contemplative one before.

The silver bell above the door jingled as her friend swept the beautiful spring day in with her. So upbeat and exuberant in her entrance, it reminded her of herself.

Once, long ago.

"Ino-chan! I'm so glad I could make it!"

Ino returned the brunette's smile as she set down her watering can and wiped her hands of imaginary dust on her apron.

"Oh? Is the world-renown botanist busy all of a sudden? Well, I'm ever so glad that you could find the time to stop by."

The other woman rolled her eyes at her friend's facetious sarcasm.

"Oh come one, you know I would always have time to say hello to my best friend here! Besides, I thought you'd be happy for me, I do have news!"

Ino shrugged aside her playful banter immediately in response to this declaration, and her head fell into her hands, propped up on the shop's smoothly worn counter. She gave the other woman her undivided attention. This was serious business after all, this was the latest gossip!

"Well come on Rae, tell me!"

Rachael smiled once again hearing her friend's affectionate nickname. Ino had never been good at foreign languages, even though she now could speak English and Italian as well as her native tongue. When she had first met Rachael, Ino had the most difficult time learning to say her name, with it coming out something like 'Ray-chu-ru', which she had laughed at.

Very quickly this had devolved to 'Rae', after Ino had borrowed a page from her childhood friend's book and deemed it too 'troublesome' to learn the full thing. Even after perfecting the pronunciation, the name had stuck.

"You're going to love this. The central government in Mizu finally approved the union's request to study the Kusa Valley. Preliminary reports have already come back, and they say the place is deluged with new species of plants that have grown from the saturation of Demonic Chakra! I've been approved to leave tomorrow with the first group of scientists!"

Contrary to her declaration, the news did not please Ino. She wasn't actually sure how she felt about it, but her face faltered in her internal deliberation and the botanist friend from the Netherlands misinterpreted the signal.

"Don't worry Ino, this is the best part! I asked my professor if we could have a guide come along, and you know what he said? He said, only if that person knew the local flora-which of course you do- so you can come along. Isn't that great?!"

Rachael's euphoric high at the fortuitous turn of events was expected to have provoked a good number of different reactions from the other normally bright and bubbly woman. Silent stoicism was not, however, on that list.

Her smile fell off her face like a rose petal, and an unreadable expression, one which she had never bore witness to before, overcame the blonde. She turned to face away, and Rachael was ashamed to say she was grateful for that. That look so foreign to her friend frightened her, though why she could not say.

"I can't go."

"Eh, what do you mean?" She pressed on as if she could not see the sudden change which descended upon the atmosphere of the flower shop. "I'm sure that your dad could look after the store, after all it'd only be for about three weeks or so, we're supposed to work in rotations so the other branches can get a chance to study the area."

Ino shook her head, not so much denying the possibility, but rather unsure of her own ability to explain herself to the unwitting but well-intentioned woman.

"You don't understand, Rae. I can't go…there."

The brunette's eyebrow's scrunched amd she adopted a look akin to if Ino told her she had been a boy this whole time.

"Ino-chan, what are you talking about? You don't believe those rumors do you?"

They were hardly rumors. There were ghosts there. Hundreds of them wandering among the regrown foliage, unable to find their ways back home. Of that, there was no doubt. Some claimed that they could see and hear them. That was the ludicrous part. No, Ino was not afraid to spend nights out among the ghosts of strangers who wouldn't know her face from any other soul, dead or alive.

It was the familiar ones she was afraid of, and they were always with her.

She shook her head, already giving into the knowledge that it would be hopeless to express this kind of thing upon the other woman. She was too sheltered, at least by their standards. In fact, if was only a curtesy of age that she called her woman. She was a girl, barely out of her teens, and so jaded to the way the real world worked.

Maybe that is what attracted one to the other. Did Ino see a bit of herself in Rachael? She could accept that. She had long since learned to accept her own flaws, once she lost count of them. But how to bring enlightenment to another who had never seen the dark? That was Buddha's job.

Or Naruto's.

"Rachael, I'm sorry, but you have to understand that I can't go back there. That place holds too many bad memories for me. It will always be associated with death in my mind."

It threw her off that Ino had used her full name. That should have been the most obvious of warnings that she was treading into deep water. But as easily as a faded placard at the beach, she dismissed it and dove in anyway.

In her defense, it was inconceivable that this woman no older than her and so bright and full of life could dwell on such dark subjects. On the other hand, she also did not believe it was possible, again, that this immaculately dressed and presented person could have ever been so close as to be truly scarred by what went on there. When read from a book, death was but a statistic. But there was no comparison to the real thing.

"Oh come on, Ino-chan," she quirked in eyebrow in skepticism to her friend's dramatic showing. "You told me you were a second-line medic. I did some reading about the conflicts pre-contact, and with the traditional weapons and tactics it was rare that fatalities would occur so far behind the lines." Before Ino could overcome her shock at this brazen accusation, Rachael placated her by throwing her hands up in apparent defeat. She was willing to give her first and best friend in the village the benefit of the doubt if it would repair their friendship and get her to go along.

"Okay, looks, I know I shouldn't presume. But still, you told me your family specializes in psychology, right? Well, don't you think it would be better to confront your fears head on? Come with me, it'll do you some good."

Behind the counter Ino's fist clenched repeatedly as she tried to regain some semblance of control. By textbook civilian psychology, she was right. But this wasn't a problem that a civilian could understand. It wasn't anything anyone outside of the former shinobi could even begin to comprehend.

How could one empathize with a life where death lurked behind every corner, both on and off the battlefield? Few could understand the necessity to take a life, but how many could comprehend the economics of it? How could one explain that some secrets were worth losing a life, tens of lives, hundreds of lives, in order to keep? These were all things that Ino knew from experience as well as her family's teachings, that could be corrosive to the human psyche.

They were things that should be done away with. They were things that were actively being relegated to the annals of history so people like Rachael Zöet could look back and marvel at how their barbaric society managed to function.

But they were also part of her life, and that could not be done away with so easily.

"Rae-chan," Ino circled around the counter and glided up to her friend, who while marveling at the grace with which she moved, could only blink in surprise to be suddenly confronted with such a serious-looking Ino who placed her hands and her shoulders. She was shocked to feel how solid the slender woman's grip was.

"Please, go. Go on your expedition. Have a good time. Make some discoveries that help to change our world for the better." The other girl could only work her mouth aimlessly at the beneficence of her friend's urging.

"But please, go now."

She was worn out from this conversation. She needed to be alone, away from the outsider who could in no way comprehend the pain she was going through.

But it was clear there was a divide, greater than any language barrier. The unusually direct request from her friend was not taken as the order it truly was.

Rachael reciprocated the gesture, placing her own arms on the blonde's shoulders so that they were kept at a distant embrace.

"Ino, please, I'm your friend. Let me help you. If you could maybe just talk about what happened, you could even let go of it. I'm sure that your friends Choji, Asuma-"

Her words were stopped there. Which was just as well because they could not be heard above the sound of the once pristine countertop exploding into a million tiny splinters that shredded the blonde's purple dress and imbedded themselves into the finely polished floor, but somehow missed the brunette as she had only just come to terms with the fact that Ino's hand was no longer on her shoulder.

"Leave. Now."

Involuntarily shaking like a leaf, the brunette finally understood the non-negotiation in the voice. She took a few hesitant steps back towards the door, unsure if this monster who had taken the place of her friend would strike her down if she turned her back. Finally, though, she could take no more of the icy stare that rested upon her and she bolted out the door, banging the solid wooden plank on a rack of vases and managing to topple one onto the floor.

It exploded into another infinity of tiny glass pieces, forming a galaxy of shards around the red sun in the center.

Ino looked not at the door as it struggled to close, nor at the matchstick pile that once was the countertop which stood in the shop since before she was born. She looked at the downed rose, and slowly walked over to it and picked it up.

She walked over to the other flower she had been admiring earlier, and plucked it from its rustic holder. She replaced it with the simple red rose she had rescued from the ground. Then walked over to the dust bin which still lurked in the space behind where the counter had once been and tossed the only blue rose into her shop into the trash. She looked back at the remains of her counter, with the cash register now lying off-balance on top of the heap.

She frowned, which then became a smile.

She sighed contentedly and retrieved her broom and dustpan.

Everyday there were a million things to do.

A million little things which may, or may not, make the world a better place.

"Of the thousands of things that could have gone wrong…"

"Eh, what are you complaining about, sir? It's just a flesh wound."

"That may be, but it's hardly like you can walk on it. Still, I'm glad that you are not too injured."

Belletriste clapped a hand on the injured man's shoulder as the team's medic silently changed the dressing. The bandages were pretty well soaked, but the wound itself had stopped bleeding. The man had been lucky that the piece of shrapnel was large enough to extract and had not fragmented inside his leg. They had all been lucky.

"Don't worry about it, my friend. We'll get you back in a warm bed right away."

He stood up and turned to his right-hand man who was, of course, waiting not far away.

"Tarek, have your group take the lead on the way back. We'll take turns with the stretcher and guarding the rear. It'll be slow going, so we best start as soon as everyone is ready."

The man under the medic's ministrations winced in shame trying to disguise it as pain.

Naruto could sympathize with what he must be feeling. Even as a fresh Genin he had been determined never to be a drag on the rest of his team. But sometimes it was unavoidable. It certainly wasn't the injured man's fault that they would need to turn back without having completed their objective, and it could not be helped in any case.

He himself felt only the barest amount of disappointment. Though it was more so with himself and his own actions. He felt that his skills as a fighter had perhaps dulled in the period away from being a shinobi. Or perhaps he had never been all that accomplished a ninja? True he had techniques that could cause untold amounts of devastation. Or rather, he had had them. What was he without their broad strokes? His canvas was empty.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, what was left of it, slowly re-growing in the months away from a razor. It was still too early to dwell on such somber thoughts, and none of them had managed to snag all that much sleep.

They had all gotten what they could, under orders and between watches. But it was obvious that they were all feeling the strain of the previous night, as well as all of the long days before that. Even the commander betrayed the smallest amount of fatigue, though it could also have been concern for his injured subordinate. Naruto still could not tell that man's expressions.

"Sir, if I may…"

Tarek's voice was soft, but it cut across the small clearing they were hole up in, and heads turned from cups of coffee and ration bars to face the man who could dare attempt to talk back to their superior officer. Even the medic faltered in his bandaging, having to redo the sloppy knot.

The NCO was perhaps the least nonplussed, and simply nodded for the man to continue.

"Sir, I believe that we can still press on."

It was the first distinct frown Naruto had seen on the man's face.

"Absolutely not. We can't bring LaCombe with us, and I would be a fool to leave him alone this far into enemy territory. You should know this."

The dark-skinned man brushed off the admonishment.

"I absolutely agree that we cannot bring him with us, not only would he be a target, but he would slow us down as well." Not far away, the man turned his head away from the discussion about him, and inadvertently met Naruto's eyes, which was perhaps even more challenging. Naruto did not shame him with a look of sympathy.

"However… I also do not think we can afford to waste this opportunity." The two senior officer's shared a look that the shinobi watching could not quite interpret, but it was clear to them that it held some amount of significance.

"We are closer to catching up with them than we ever have been, and we have clear evidence that there is a shinobi. We have no idea when next we will get the chance to encounter them again. We don't even know if we will ever get another chance, if the higher-ups have their way."

The three shinobi listening across the way found it particularly curious that the argument seemed so focused around the narrow view that their unit afforded. As if the rest of the war being raged around them had no bearing on their success, nor theirs on it. Idly, Naruto realized that this could be true. It was another reminder of how little the individual seemed to matter in this world.

Or maybe… it was not the unit as a whole, but them, that changed the game.

Belletriste also ran his hand through his hair as he seemed to mull it over. It was obvious that he wanted to agree with the other man's plan, but was shackled by duty and a genuine care for his allies. His normally stalwart convictions were at ends, and it would only take a little more pushing to sway him.

"So what would we do with LaCombe? Epichoff is still suffering from concussion, so he would have to stay behind too, we would need to leave a medic behind with them. And I would want them all to have enough protection, so add another three men at least to share in watch. So what are you suggesting? We split in two?" He shook his head. "That is reckless. Foolish, even."

Even though during Tarek's argument the shinobi had felt their hope rise at the possibility that they still had a chance to show their metal. They could not help but agree with the commander, though. Splitting up in enemy territory like that was a poor decision.

"Not so." Still, the man was resolute. It was curious how much the normally abiding soldier was pushing back. "Do you trust me commander?"

"Of course." There was no hesitation. "Which is why I can't split the team. No offense to our newer memebers," Here he finally did look over at the three shinobi, and they could see that he meant what he said. "but I don't trust them to act independently just yet."

"Exactly, which is why they will go with you while I stay here with the rest."

The assembled could only blink in surprise, but the man continued to lay out his proposal before any objections could be raised.

"You are correct, sir, that the casualties would just slow you down. But that is also true of most of the rest of the men. The truth is that they simply cannot keep up with the shinobi in terms of speed."

Small nods from the veteran soldiers showed that they were wise enough to know their own limitations, and humble enough to admit them. It greatly surprised the newcomers who had yet to get to know the rest of their team on a personal level.

"With all due respect sit, you can keep up with them, more or less." He shrugged, admitting the 'more-or-less' part. "So you take the three of them, plus Moses, and the rest of us will remain here and try to achieve contact with ALAT (3) or any other air transport units in the area who could extract us from our current location. Let's face it, the three of them should be more than enough firepower to take down whatever you encounter, and you would have Moses to keep an eye on them."

Once again, Belletriste looked their way and stood there appraising them clinically. But this time, they could clearly see a modicum of that deliberation turned inwards.

"Please, sir. You know as well as I do what will happen if we report failure this early. The unit will be shut down. Everything you worked for until now will be for naught. At best the remaining shinobi will be scattered among the regular units, at worst, they might ban them entirely."

"I don't need you telling me this, Tarek."

It was clear that he understood, but it was also clear that he needed to hear the words. The rest of them too were shocked by this sudden influx of information. Politics and propriety were still too complex for them to fully understand, but it was still very clear to the outsiders that Tarek was proposing this plan more for the commander than himself. And in fact, it seemed, more for them than for him.

"Well?"

He spoke after a while, the question aimed not at the shinobi, but at the rest of the veteran soldiers who simply nodded back to him one by one before turning to the little group of shinobi plus two, and nodding once again. Belletriste turned to face them too. Turned to face him, and the blond man stared back unblinking.

"If we push on, a lot will be riding on your shoulders. Whatever would happen would be your responsibility, not much I can do to cover for you if the worse comes to pass."

Naruto understood that meant more than the completion of the mission. That was okay, he was use to life-or-death decisions.

If he had been younger, if it had just been his wellbeing at stake, even if it had just been the three of them the decision would affect, he wouldn't need to hesitate. But he was remiss to say that he did not know the other two quite so well. He turned back to see the large man nod deeply and a wide smile of pearly whites staring back at him.

"Are you guys sure?" He wasn't even sure if he was comfortable splitting up their gang, and did not entirely feel confident in his ability to keep the non-shinobi, Conrad safe.

"Nope!" The young man quipped without losing his smile. "But I trust ya. And besides, isn't this what we signed up for? Adventure and whatnot?"

Maybe it was. But the only way to find that out was to press forward. He turned back to the expectant NCO who already seemed to know his answer.

"Alright then. We leave first thing tomorrow. Get some sleep. Pleasant dreams."

 _This was a nightmare._

 _There was no end in sight, and they were rapidly eating away what ammo they had jumped in with. Though their commander seemed to have anticipated such an event, and they had carried double the amounts that intelligence suggested, all of the bullets in their armory probably would not have been enough._

 _He was down to semi-auto. Trying to make it a game to see how few shots it would take to bring the plant-men down. They were relatively slow, that made it easier. But they were tough, and while his M733 was well and good for human targets, his current enemies shrugged off the high-velocity cartridge with moderate ease, taking no more note of the hole in their face than they would a mosquito bite._

 _Thank god for the demi-humans fighting by their sides. In an ironic twist of fate, it seemed that it was they who were being rescued._

 _Speaking of which, he wondered if anyone had given a spare thought to send a distress signal once it was apparent they were well and truly mired in it. He wondered if it even mattered, if such a thing could get out of this valley, much less the sphere of incidence._

 _Besides, who would listen?_

 _He was forced to duck underneath a labored swipe that was sure to take his head off, helmet or no. He rammed the buttstock of his weapon into the general area that the groin should have been with all his strength. He did not hold much hope that that would be sufficient, though, and quickly followed up with a kick that would have broken a normal man's kneecap, and then a left hook that clearly knocked a few of the pointy teeth out of its mouth._

 _He cursed, nursing his aching fist._

 _The thing stirred at his feet. In a sudden bout of frustration, he stomped on its larynx and proceeded to empty the rest of his mag into the things face. When had it become a personal vendetta? Maybe he was just frustrated because he knew that they weren't getting out of this?_

 _He still changed the mag, ready to fight on. They weren't moving forward anymore. Hadn't been, for some time. But they weren't losing ground, either. Not yet, anyway._

 _When he looked back up, the ground in front of him was clear, which should have been a welcome relief. But something kept his muscles tensed despite the permeating silence as the rest of his enlarged group of allies tacitly came to the same realization._

 _That same something threw him down to the ground the same time a devastating shockwave whipped over the battlefield. It seemed the extra tech was good for something however. The way the blast had torn at his uniform, he was certain that he would have been deaf for the rest of his life if this were not the case._

 _He recognized laughter, but the words that accompanied them were that strange but familiar tongue their ad-hoc allies spoke. He quickly decided that he did not like it, however._

 _Looking up and seeing a man riding atop a giant bird that looked to be made of plaster should have surprised him. But by now, he was ready to accept just about everything. Including the fact that it was this one-armed blond lunatic that tried to frag him into tiny chunks with an endless stream of plastic explosive._

 _It seemed his comrades were of the same opinion, and as soon as he started trying to shoot the man down, a fusillade of fire erupted from behind him, attempting the same._

 _The man appeared momentarily shocked as the sand-colored bird exploded beneath him in a puff of smoke and bullet holes, before another identical one shot away from the cloud with him latched on its back. He continued to laugh in that especially grating tone of his._

 _The mounted man then reached into his black cloak and withdrew another handful of explosive, which he lobbed at the lot of them on the ground._

 _The only thing he heard was the blond man yelling something about a cat before the shockwave hit._

 _Only, it didn't._

 _There was a vague feeling of being enveloped by a fleece blanket, static electricity prickling the hairs on his arms, before he was yanked back._

 _Only he was still standing still. At least, at first. The disorienting feeling caused him to lose his balance and fell backwards onto his butt with as much grace as he could muster in full combat gear._

 _Which was none at all._

" _Dijoubu desu-ka?"_

 _Once again, the silver-haired man uttered those incomprehensible words at him, and all he could do was blink as he tried to stand up. Tried, being the opportune word, for as soon as the attempt was made, another blast wave knocked him back down._

 _He swore, not sure in which language, but the other man still nodded in agreement. Then he did something curious. He got down on a knee and started to pray. That was what it looked like to him anyway. But instead of his hands remaining steepled, they wove in and out of different positions in stunning a stunning choreographic display. But then the man stopped abruptly, clearly interrupting whatever it was he was about to do, and looked back at him._

 _Once again, the look was able to convey the message a thousand times better than the words, which none the less conveyed the utmost urgency. He was supposed to flee, or get back, or something. Anything, just so that he wasn't there._

 _But he found that despite the clear direction, he could not comply. That same obstinate streak that had caused his commander to order them to jump into certain demise must have infected him, and he was now determined to see whatever mess they had stumbled into until its bitter end. He shook his head in the negative (he hoped). The silver-haired man with mismatched-eyes just sighed and turned back to his task._

 _Without him noticing, they had been silently joined by a couple of others, none of them his own comrades. One was clad in bone-white armor and animal mask, revealing only oddly purple hair and the fact that she was a woman, as long as he could trust the way the armor clung to her svelte frame. The other was a man who stuck close by silver's left, distinguished predominantly by his square-set jaw and bowl-cut. He and the silver-haired man wore the same flak-vest, which looked more ceremonial than practical, thus probably signified some kind of rank._

 _Like with him, a look and a nod was all the three of them needed to confer the hastily made plan. He didn't have much time to admire their cohesiveness, however. As soon as that brief moment of conference was over, the two newcomers shot out in pursuit of the blond bomber while silver completed the rest of his strange ritual._

 _He himself prepared to offer whatever assistance he could, though he was very doubtful of the possibility._

 _Sure enough, he was not given a chance to offer them log-range support, as the man with the bowl-cut tried to engage his airborne opponent, oddly enough using only hand-to-hand combat. While his effort was stunning, it was just that, an effort, for none of his attacks hit home and the more agile enemy evaded the man by simply increasing his altitude._

 _But that was apparently what the three had expected, for in the moment that he lost the purple-haired masked woman, she reappeared behind and above the blond, poised for a finishing blow with a short sword clasped vindictively in her grasp._

 _He was so entrapped with awe that he missed his opportunity to do something useful. In the same moment the blow connected, the bomber dissolved into a pool of clay much like the plant-men had been doing. But unlike them he reappeared well enough away that he would have had a clear shot. But before he could do so, the clay clone exploded, consuming the masked woman in a fiery blaze._

 _Her body dropped like a stone to the ground, and he was torn between watching that and the equally awe-inspiring sight of a spatial rift like a vortex in time opening up at the behest of the silver-man's gaze. For a second, though, the tides had shifted. The blond man seemed well and truly surprised at being captured in the vortex's inescapable gravity, and the eccentric man with the bowl-cut seemed well poised to rescue his downed comrade._

 _But like all battles, a second was all it took for it to shift again._

 _As the feminine-looking blond made one final grasp at a handhold that was not there, he gained a vengeful smirk, which turned into the twisted smile of one of the plant-men._

 _Then the shit hit the fan._

 _Everything was consumed in a blinding white, and this time the ear protection couldn't hold out the entirety of the blast. Both he and the silver-haired man were blown off their feet in an instant, and once again, he gained that strange but sensual feeling of being weightless. How many times was that that day? Why did the most blissful feelings come at the edge of certain death? Hardly seemed fair._

 _He should have been happy that it still hurt when he impacted and skidded against the ground. As long as he could still feel, he was still alive. For now. For one second more._

 _Incredibly, he seemed to be the first back on his feet, or at least the first with his head off the ground. He could feel the ceramic plate in front shift around inside their Kevlar housing, clearly shattered. It had taken the blow for his lungs, which were still struggling to re-inflate._

 _But even on his knees, even with the wind knocked out of him, even with his rifle blown god-knew where, he still made the effort to get his feet underneath him. He didn't know why. It was just one of those little mysteries in life. Like why he enlisted in the first place. What had he been seeking? What did he think he was missing in his life? At the moment, life was the most precious commodity for him, regardless of how much mundanity permeated it. He really had no other justification/_

 _Fuck it. He just wanted to wipe the smile off that guy's face. In an endless struggle against emotionless clones, he sought the familiarity of pain and desperation. And for once, he wanted someone else to feel it._

 _It was like he was watching a movie. Until he realized that it was himself, clad in camouflage fatigues long since faced past any discernable pattern, leather boots stomping the churned earth as he ran like a quarterback from those American football games in and out of explosions, helmeted head ducked low so that he could only see his next step._

 _He wouldn't have minded paying to see this movie, if only he knew it had a happy ending. But given the fact that he was watching it from an outside perspective, he supposed that he was already dead, and his body just didn't know it yet._

 _High above him, the psychotic cripple was busy doing something, amassing yet another wad of plastic explosive. Bigger yet than any he had used thus far. If only he had some popcorn, this was getting good._

 _The armored soldier tripped. No, he threw himself against the ground, over the still body of the purple-haired woman. But the bomb had already dropped, the clay detonated high above the ground and their entire battleground, and further even, was consumed in one massive event of such intensity that even in his omniscient vantage he could no longer look._

 _Which of course was when life decided that he had enough of a break, and he found himself back in is corpse of a body. He still must have been slightly out of place, though, because everything was numb, and things were still moving without his control._

 _He could no more control his hand reaching down to his thigh for the nickel-plated revolver that rested there, than he could halt the wisps of smoke parting above the two of them, revealing the smirking face of the blond man high above in the blue sky turning inexorably to dusk._

 _Though he relished in the sudden expression of dismay and incredulity which shifted onto the man's face, apparent through the crosshairs, he couldn't help but feel a slight amount of regret as his finger squeezed against the long double-action pull of the trigger._

 _He wanted to feel something when he took the man's life._

 _But alas, he did not. He did not feel anything, even as he clearly saw the man's jaw jerk back, and the body summersault backwards off of his dissolving mount. Nothing, as he scooped up the limp body at his feet. Nothing as he shuffled slowly and carefully over the uneven ground back to where the man with the bowl-cut was checking up on the silver-haired man. Nothing, as the limp body was taken from him, and he fell to his knees._

 _He realized that he could not hear, nor see that clearly either. His hands found the plastic buckle of his chinstrap, fumbled and finally released it. He threw the whole unit, ruined electronic eyepiece and all as far away as he could, not expecting and no longer caring if he would have to pay for its loss. He grabbed a fistful of cloth on the top of his head and ripped off his sweat-soaked mask, gasping for breath that was still reluctant to come._

 _The armor. It was still constricting him, and he suddenly felt claustrophobic in its now useless embrace. He hurried going through the motions trying to release his body from the cumbersome unit, only realizing that he was still wearing the rest of the FELIN system on his back, and in its Jerry-rigged state he was trapped until he ditched that too._

 _He was all too happy to do so, but right before he tossed the electronic hunk of slag away, he heard audible crackles coming from the back-up headset. Words. Sentences. Again, in an incomprehensible foreign language._

 _No, not quite. Not unintelligible, just mired in static. Not foreign, at least, not entirely._

 _His high-school English lessons came back to him in a startling moment of clarity as he put the transceiver up to his ear._

"… _.anyone….read me? Repeat…. Is anyone alive down there?"_

 _He could have wept. It seems that someone had called it in. And there had been a response. Air support, thank god, was apparently already here. If they could just get one bomber to do a run, one fighter to strafe the ground, they had a chance to change the tide of the whole battle._

 _It probably hadn't even occurred to anyone until that point. The battle that they had been fighting had been so unlike anything they had trained for. Unlike anything anyone had trained for in hundreds of years. All the combatants were out in the open, ripe targets for modern aircraft, and here they were slogging it out within arm's reach of the enemy._

 _He hastily tried to reestablish the connection with the aircraft. He was lucky._

 _Doubly so. Apparently the ones who had been watching them had been especially spooked when they sent out a distress signal and then had gone silent. Their response had been as through as it had been immediate. Whatever it was the emergency had said, they deemed it prudent to blast the treat to kingdom come and back again. At that very moment, there was a US B-1 bomber flying circles above their heads, armed with a single MOAB (4) in its bay, and looking for anything resembling a target._

 _He could pick out a few._

 _But there was one obvious one. The battle they had seen from the air was still going on, and if anything had waxed in magnitude. There was something massive, visible even from this distance, which stuck up above the hilly terrain. It was a statue, grotesque though it may have been. It was even uglier than the plant men, but more intriguing because of the intense movement that buzzed all around it._

 _He fumbled into one of the pockets hooked onto his half-undressed armor and pulled out his private pair of binoculars. One hand on them, one on the headset, he squinted through the lenses._

 _It was peculiar. He did not know what to make of the scene. One moment streaks of color where whipping to and froe in his compact lenses, the next they were at a standstill, and he could see the black and orange blurs for what they were. But despite the fact that he could see the two people clearly as they paused in their attempts to kill one another, he could no more understand what they were saying to one another as he could understand how these strange individuals did what they did._

 _He still had the bomber pilot yelling in his ear at his sudden lack of response, desperate for his own sense of clarity. He also realized that his strange allies were mired in their own conversation now, animatedly gesturing in the same direction he was focused. Unlike him, they seemed to be aware of what was going on, and were waiting on pins and needles. He tried taking another look so that he might see what they were so worked up about._

 _The two individuals were clearly distinct. Both visibly, as well as the attitudes that they managed to convey across the vast swaths of land which separated them from him. The vibrantly dressed one was little more than a kid, probably not too much younger than himself. The blond kid looked as bedraggled as he himself felt in that moment. But unlike him, there was a spark of determination in his eyes. A conviction that only one that belonged could possess. Only one of stalwart determination could hope to convey in this trying hour._

 _The other one gave him the creeps. He didn't need subtitles to figure out who the good-guys were in this instance._

 _Then they were back at it. Nigh-invisible blurs of speed conjuring attacks of such radiance that it hurt to look at, and that further altered the landscape that had taken millions of years to create._

 _The mutterings by his side climbed steadily, and he couldn't help but notice how they seemed worried. And it wasn't concern for their unconscious comrade whom he returned to them either, for she had already been bandaged and was resting off her recent effort. Both the Silver-haired man and his masculine friend were fixated on the same fight he was. And they were worried._

 _Which meant that he should be as well._

 _But what could he do? Was it his place to do anything? He was sure as hell wasn't even supposed to be here. But could he afford to not do anything? Could he blindly put his faith in people he had not even met to get them all out of this alive?_

 _He couldn't think with the incessant voice crackling in his ear. Where was that helicopter? Where the hell were his comrades? Where were the superior officers? Where were the people who could make the decisions?_

 _The fight was continuing to mount, and with it, the palpable tension. Though the battle continued to rage all around them, many more sets of eyes were now trained in the same spot. It was clear now as it was from the helicopter- there was the center of combat. There was where the battle would be decided._

" _Hello? Please, anyone out there? Jesus, what the hell is going on? Are you still alive down there Frenchie? I can't reach anyone else. I've got to drop this thing or else I won't have enough fuel to return to base. For god's sake, someone give me a target! Let me know what the fuck to do!"_

 _That, was a very good question._

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **1\. Le Boudin- one of the FFL's marching songs. One of their oldest and most famous. Literally translated, it means "the blood sausage". For those of you who have had blood sausage before, this isn't it. This is boudin, and my apologies to any connoisseurs out there, but it is nasty stuff. Give me Irish puddin any day.**

 **2\. In the lyrics of Le Boudin, the Legion recall most of their major battles. Most of which, they suffered some pretty heavy casualties resulting in defeat (except Kolwezi, which was a great success). But that doesn't matter to the Legion. They celebrate insurmountable odds. It's part of their charm.**

 **3\. Military organization is often horribly complex. ALAT is light aircraft which are operated by the army, not airforce. The FFL has some of its own integrated transport, but often times has to hitch a ride.**

 **4\. Yup. Mother of All Bombs. Just like on TV. These things have actually been around for the better part of a quarter of a century. They're not actually that expensive, given that they are mainly just conventional explosives. It was the development of them that cost so much. It only makes sense from an accounting point of view, but with each bomb they drop, they get cheaper.**


	6. The Good Lord

**Not much for me to say here. It's a relatively long one, so I'll just get to it. I'll try one more time, though.**

 **Is there actually anyone out there? Would anyone benefit from a brief summary of events so far?**

 **Anyway, best let you get going.**

* * *

"Well…. I'll be damned."

Belletriste dropped the compact binoculars and glanced to his right.

"You were right after all. Good job, boy."

Naruto repressed the growl that was building inside of him, knowing that it would only make the teasing worse. For the past week, he had been treated like the man's personal blood hound, using his Sage Mode to track down the rest of the enemy combatants that had escaped their snare. It had been a long week at that, and both rations and patience were wearing thin.

He settled for a stony glare, his Sage-enhanced features hopefully making it more frightening than he could have normally hoped for. To both his relief and ire, the man seemed to ignore both the glare as well as his own comment as he buckled straight back down to the business at hand.

"Now, are you sure that everyone you sensed is accounted for down there?"

Naruto nodded an affirmation.

"What about other shinobi? I thought that repressing one's chakra was a common skill."

Once again, Naruto wondered just how much information the man was privy to, but answered him unfalteringly besides.

"That's true that we can hide our chakra, and I am almost positive that's what a few of them are doing down there. But there is no way to hide your life presence from a sage." At least, none that had so far been discovered. "There are at least four shinobi. But I can't tell how strong they are, because as you say, they are doing a good job at masking their presence. As best I can tell, they look like a couple of Genins and maybe a Chunin, but I hardly think that is the case." He looked over to Karui who only nodded to confirm the summation. Her sensing skills still superior to his own.

Their NCO nodded as well in understanding.

"I think it's safe to assume they know they have other shinobi after them. Wouldn't be any other reason to hide their signatures in any other case. Thankfully, they probably don't know how many we have, given that the only slip up was the stunt whiskers here pulled." He jerked a finger at Naruto who was more amply able to ignore the offhanded insult, knowing he was in the right for what he did. How was he supposed to know that they had a shinobi capable of blocking his wind attack?

"Sir, do you think that they are just doing that as a precaution? Do they have any reason to assume that we followed them?" Conrad gave his two cents in a diminutive tone, unsure if he was asking an obvious question. Thankfully for him, Belletriste seemed to be giving the question some serious thought.

"Well?" He said at last, looking at the three shinobi of his unit. "Do we?" He posed them the same question. They hesitated to answer, unsure if this was a kind of test or not.

They glanced among themselves, considering with what information they had, what could be inferred by the actions they were observing now. It was a hard call, but given that there did not seem to be any active patrols guarding the encampment, they found it safe to assume that they were not expected.

Their leader agreed with their deduction, but continued to urge caution.

"I'll tell you what," He paused, picking at a splinter that had lodged under his fingernail with his teeth. "I still don't like these odds. You say there's four of them. That's four that we know of, and additionally we don't know how much of a threat they are. And add to that the two dozen local fighters… forgive me if I don't place that much faith in your capabilities just yet."

For once, they actually could. While they were sure of their own strengths and abilities, they were indeed ignorant to those of the enemy shinobi down below. Logic dictated they should not be unduly strong, though. All of the former S-class shinobi had been accounted for, as well as the majority of A-class. They should also have the advantage of surprise, but that was not a guarantee. As experienced fighters they knew their own weaknesses, and if luck had it that the shinobi they would face against were their reciprocals in nature, they might be in serious trouble in a fair match up.

However, they were shinobi, and fair was not a necessity.

But why the hesitation? Why all of the deliberation? Had it been an order from their Kage, they would not have given it a second thought past the plan of attack. Coincidentally each of them realized at the same time that they were receiving the uncertain feelings of their commander, who for the first time since they had met him did not seem to have the answer.

Such a void of guidance should have scared them in this instance, but for Naruto it provided an opportunity. As incredulous as it seemed, he would have to step up and provide the conviction that for whatever reason their leader currently lacked.

"Just relax sir."

Belletriste ceased his mulling and gave Naruto the entirety of his attention.

"You may not be a gambler, but just ask anyone who knows me and they'll tell you I have the devil's luck." He shot the man a thumbs up and a toothy smile much to his amusement. "If you are worried, you can stay back here with Conrad and let us take care of it. We're the expendable ones after all, right?"

The snarky pep-talk seemed to do the trick as the man just shook his head at the blond's antics. Still, there was some lingering sobriety that Naruto managed to catch just behind the heavy glass lenses.

"Hardly…"

"So, it's settled then?" Tenten ventured after a short pause, overtly eager to see some more action, considering her relatively minor role the last time. She received a nod and hum of confirmation, and had to restrain herself from squealing like a schoolgirl as she thought of her weapon scrolls she had squirreled away unbeknown to the others.

"So what's the plan?" Naruto asked now that his superior seemed fully onboard. "We going to attack them at night?"

The man shook his head.

"No, as much as I hate to admit it, everyone down there probably has better night-fighting capabilities than we do. At least, better than me and Moses here." He nodded at the young man who shrugged, also accepting it as the truth. "No, we'll attack them at sunset. We'll have the sun at our backs, plus they should still be tired from the hike."

Naruto frowned at this announcement. Sunset was just a few hours away, and their foes were not the only ones still exhausted. Normally it wouldn't have been a problem, but he had not been sleeping all that well the past couple of nights. He had been dreaming, of his past, of that day in particular, when everything changed and he lost it all. It was one of the reasons he preferred not to dream anymore.

He had been hoping to be able to at least get a few hours of rest before such a strain. He was not as resilient as he used to be. It was unfair, but he was a bit resentful of that fact. His whole life had been preordained by the demon sealed within his stomach. He had endured through all of it, then, and now, what was it all for?

Belletriste saw the hastily hidden expression of displeasure, however quick it may have been.

"Is there something the matter Uzumaki?"

He reflexively shook his head, not even alert enough to notice that he had been addressed by his actual name. He was concerned with maintaining the surety he had displayed earlier, for the sake and safety of his team. They could not afford to hesitate.

His commander looked at him with a blank expression that would have looked more appropriate on Sai, but said nothing more on the matter. But Naruto was not entirely sure he had been believed. Regardless, they needed to press on.

"Right then. Tamura, you're with us. We'll be needing that extra firepower you brought along." He gestured to Tenten, but even more specifically to her pack that she had temporarily removed and propped against her bent legs.

Tenten had the decency to blush, realizing that she had perhaps not been as surreptitious as was prudent. It was sloppy ninja work to assume that the one in charge had not noticed an additional set of scrolls packed away with the rest of the standard gear.

"Moses, you'll be Red's spotter."

The other two readily agreed to this arrangement. Conrad, knowing that he probably wouldn't be much help in comparison to the other shinobi in the brute work of the ambush, and Karui just glad that her nickname had been upgraded from "Dyke" to "Red".

Naruto didn't need to be told where he fit in.

Belletriste looked down to his watch, an ancient looking thing with a leather band. He brushed off some of the omnipresent dust that had accumulated on its face.

"Great. Time enough for a nap. I suggest you all get some sleep, I'll stay up and keep watch."

Maybe he wasn't so bad after all?

* * *

"Finally! How long have we been out here in these miserable hills? Two months? Kami I miss the sea. It'll be nice to at least be able to get a real bath and sleep in a warm bed. None of this wool-blanket shit and sanitary wipes!"

To emphasize his point, the scraggly young man finished wiping away the day's dust from his face with the paper-thin wet cloth and tossed it into the campfire, causing the orange flames to die for a moment and smoke profusely as the residual moisture evaporated. Then, another log was tossed on top of it and the towelette disappeared completely.

They had risked building a fire for their campsite, which just went to show how confident they were in their ability to make it back to their basecamp without further delays. Though not entirely sure that they had ditched the recon team that had intercepted their other party, they felt that it was likely enough that they had. And if indeed they were stumbled upon, the absence of a fire was more suspicious than the presence of one. They did have a right to be here after all. The men they traveled with were natives through and through.

And if it even came that close, a confrontation was already inevitable.

The other man subject to the complaining of the first, nodded in partial acceptance and thumbed the next page in the small book he was holding. He scratched his chin under the thick salt and pepper beard that he had been growing for that whole time, already knowing that he was going to keep it, but nonetheless wishing for a chance to run a comb through it and scrub the caked-on dirt that he hadn't been able to dislodge.

"Mmm. For once I agree with you. It would be nice to enjoy a hot bath and scrub off at least the top layer of filth." He admired his own palm, nearly as dark as the men they were traveling with because of said dirt, but also because of the countless days out in the sun, which was more sever at such altitudes. "Cleanliness, is after all, next to godliness. Inshallah, we will be back before noon tomorrow."

The younger man who seemed only able to grow the stubble on his face, narrowed his eyes in distaste at the colloquial turn of phrase.

"Don't tell me that you are actually buying in to all of this religious shit? What, were you some kind of monk before you came out here?"

The older man sighed, seeing the impending argument. He wasn't going to be able to get anywhere in his religious text anytime soon, so he shut the worn leather binding. His finger lingering on the gilded filigree before carefully tucking the precious object away on the inside of his Kameez, just under his heart.

"No," he responded at last, without taking his eyes away from the dancing flames. "like you, I too was a shinobi. And like so many of our kind, I sought purpose in the outside world, once it became clear that our homes no longer needed our kind."

"Huh, purpose." The man scoffed, and spit viciously into the flame. "That's the problem with working with guys like you. I'll bet you were a faithful shinobi right up until they told you they didn't want you anymore? Unlike me, you still had faith in a village to protect you. In fact, I almost want to thank those moronic politicians for what they did. They finally were able to show their true colors and tell everyone to their faces that they weren't going to be able to take care of everyone."

The more veteran shinobi did not seem to let this harangue against their collective homelands upset him in any way. In fact, he nodded gravely indicating his concession to the brash young nuke-nin who strutted his slashed headband worn like a sash over his own native disguise.

"What you say is true, to an extent. It was indeed a great shock when they took away our pensions and forced people like us out of the reserve forces. However, I believe it was their right to do so. As the new generation, the one that is going to lead us into the future which, inshallah, is better and brighter than the one men like you and I suffered in, certain sacrifices need to be made."

Now he stared coldly at the former missing-ninja, brown eyes locking onto the youngling's faltering stare. He had the convictions of youth, which were violent and blameless, but so often fleeting. He did not realize that he had been given an unprecedented second chance, to reflect upon the follies of his youth and correct them before he died in a blaze of glory, burning everything that he touched. He could see it now, in those flickering flames which danced in his eyes.

"And if they need to cut loose old dogs like me, incapable of learning new tricks, and rabid hounds like you who only crave the next battle, then so be it. Here at least is a place where both our kind can find purpose, though you have the right not to if you so choose. I think that is a mistake. I, believe that it was a divine will that allowed an old man like me to find purpose again, and in doing so, lend help to those in need. I am not so foolish a coot to believe that the foreigners in their knowledge are deities, nor am I ignorant enough to think that none exists in this fearful new world. Whatever you may call him, Kami, Buddha, God, Allah, it does not matter. As long as you try to do good in this world and honor the gift of life you have been given."

There was a heavy silence at the end of the man's speech, where the younger, petulant young colt actually seemed to cow and reflect on what was perhaps the greater experience of the other man. For just a moment, the only sounds were of the crackling fire and the afternoon breeze as the gusts ruffled the pine needles far above.

Then there came the monophonic sounds of chanting, voices mumbled and out of sync, and the temporary spell was broken.

"Tch." The younger man sneered again as they both watched the local warriors they had been traveling with as they collectively got down on their hands and knees, praying in the same direction on severely worn rugs that were crowded next to one another like matchsticks in that little clearing among the trees.

"If you are so grateful to this 'Allah' of yours, why aren't you over there praying with them? Isn't that, like a mortal sin or something?" He shot the man a smirk, which was ignored as once again the book was brought out from the folds of his loose cotton shirt and he cracked it open to where the ribbon had been draped over the page.

"As I told you," the man spoke quietly as he prepared to be lost in his book, anxious to use the last rays of sunlight before they fell behind the peak. "What matters is to do what is right. One does not always have to follow the letter." He smiled at the irony himself as he got to the end of the fluid calligraphy that was so different than his native script, though it read in the same direction. He had been practicing for months now, and the language still eluded him, but the words were art, both written and spoken.

"Besides, I think it prudent that at least a couple of us take watch."

"Whatever." The older man frowned with his nose in the book as whatever words passed between the two of them seemed to have been lost to the echoes of the mountains.

"I'm going to go take a shit."

At that, the ex-nukenin pushed himself off the ground and tried dusting off his own Shalwar Kameez, before realizing the futility of it and trudging off to find a tree he could do his business behind with some measure of privacy. Although, despite words and attitude to the contrary, when he stood up, something seemed to grasp him, and the waning light which filtered through the trees turned the gnarled trunks and thorny branches a golden hue. For just a split second within the throes of mundanity, he was overcome with a powerful presence. A significance in the smallest of changes.

"Huh."

The old man looked up from his book at this quiet exclamation.

He dropped his book as the other man's head exploded outwards.

Before either had hit the ground, he had already replaced himself with a nearby section of a fallen tree.

He watched from the other side now, as the pinprick hole he saw appear in the man's head, on this side resembled a hammer strike in a watermelon. He watched the look of sheer incredulity as the man laboriously dropped to his knees then slumped over. Already the camp was in uproar. Already, his mind was in action.

It might have been a stretch to say that he was too old to learn a thing or two. When confronted with firearms, one learned quickly or died. The sharp crack of the rifle, and the wet one as the man was eviscerated from the neck up happened near simultaneously, which meant the shooter was close. Which meant the rest of their team was close as well.

He cursed, reaching behind himself for a kunai. It was obvious that they were dealing with the same unit from before, and if they had already managed to sneak up on them without their notice, it was obvious too that their shinobi was nearby.

"How about you just drop your weapon?"

The veteran shinobi only replied with a quick spin as he let loose the kunai he had palmed moments before. The man who snuck up on him, kitted out in mostly standard military garb and with a scarf covering his face, lazily dodged the knife, not even bothering to level his rifle.

"I'll take that as a no."

The old shinobi smirked, but not at the seemingly carefree attitude. He was simply glad that the person they had sent in first seemed to have trouble killing adversaries. Whoever he may have been in the shinobi world, if he did not learn this critical lesson he was not to last long in his new role. For all of his lofty ideals and grizzly experience, the old man most certainly had no such reservations.

Never having relinquished possession of his rifle, the older man simply swung the Type56 on its sling and fired off a burst from his hip. At this range, most of his shots would go astray, but most of his ninjutsu would not have enough room. He was just giving himself some.

He had not expected the sprayed bullets to hit, and so was unsurprised when the younger shinobi- for clearly that was what he was- dodged the stream with incredible speed. Undaunted, the man had already molded chakra for one of his most practiced techniques.

He had no need to use hand-seals or even say the name of the technique as an earth wall erupted between the two of them. Before his opponent could find a way around, however, the man leapt over his own defense, much to the apparent shock of the other ninja for such brazen tactics, knowing himself to be a clearly more fit adversary. But this was an assumption the older fighter would try best to dissuade, as he engaged the younger man in a bout of taijutsu, taking advantage of the high ground the slope afforded him, and preventing the younger man from using his own firearm.

Internally, Naruto berated himself using words he had picked up from his time in basic. At the first face-to-face with another shinobi, he had fallen strait back in to his usual habits instead of taking the man out quickly and efficiently. Now, he was mired in a taijutsu match, which, while he was certain to prevail due to his stamina and strength, he was embarrassingly outmatched when it came to technique. He doubly cursed as he had to consciously prevent himself from using his shadow clones, and took a right hook to the face for his trouble.

He went skittering down the increasing slope, but very quickly managed to right himself, and even while he was falling back let out a bullet of compressed air from his mouth. The other ninja, who looked suspiciously like the local fighters with his shaggy beard and local dress, handily dodged it and began weaving through a series of seals. The air cannon however, impacted the erected earth wall and broke off a fair number of boulders which came tumbling down at him.

Naruto grit his teeth as he suddenly realized that the wall had been erected to separate himself from the rest of his team and box him in on the downside of the valley. His opponent may have known from the first that he was no match for Naruto's stamina, but he had already succeeded in drawing him away and using up precious seconds of time which he could use to help his teammates. He could not afford to waste any more.

For once glad to have footwear with a covered toe, he dug in the front of his boots and arrested his slide. Then he dashed upward, temporarily ignoring the falling rocks as he took aim at the enemy ninja who had just finished his seals. The ninja, just realizing what was happening, was forced to abort his technique as a wild volley of fire was directed at him. He leapt back up onto his wall, only to be sent flying as a grenade blew off another goodly chunk of it beneath his feet.

Naruto smirked as he now faced the redoubled landslide approaching him. He was no longer concerned, and was instead struck by one of his brilliantly jerry-rigged ideas, admittedly inspired by his inability thus far to replicate his father's Hiraishin.

And as far as his teammates, well, he wasn't that concerned. They should be able to take care of themselves.

* * *

Karui nailing the arrogant ninja in the head was the agreed upon signal. And even as the collective group of insurgent fighters rose off their prayer rugs in a mass of panic and anger, Tenten too rose from her crouched location behind a large boulder in a twin helix of smoke which resembled the namesake of her technique.

"Rising Twin Dragons!"

She couldn't help it as the name slipped out of her ecstatic lips during her ascent, and she relished in the looks of abject fear she had instilled upon the once hardened fanatics. Many still managed to let off a few rounds in her direction, but they were too shocked to aim properly. And she was already thoroughly obscured by her technique for them to get a good bead anyway.

The clearing's canopy afforded just enough room for her to deploy the majority of her arsenal, and as she reached her apex the cloud of weapons was already loosed on its unstoppable descent towards their crowded targets. There was no dodging this surprise attack.

But even as some of the bladed implements were tickling the hairs on the men's beards, a sudden, impossibly strong gust of wind halted them in their tracks so that they hovered mere millimeters from their target as if suspended in a giant wind tunnel. They soon clattered to the ground as Tenten too began to fall much the same, abject shock present on her face.

Before she could even ready the second attempt, two turbaned fighters leapt to the fore of the group, and one of them sent another gale her way with a slash of their kusarigama.

Using the wires attached to each weapon that would have facilitated her follow-up shot, Tenten instead pulled herself down to the ground in haste, taking cover behind the same boulder as before. Though she already knew it was the right decision, curiosity caused her to look up and see what would have become of her had she stayed in the technique's path.

The tops of a dozen sturdy pine trees being seamlessly severed told her all she needed to know. But she still lamented the mitigation of her own attack, even though she knew it was not entirely in vain.

The two enemy shinobi, distinguished only by the shemaghs that were wrapped around their heads and which hid their facial features, quickly moved to close in on the grounded kunochi. The one who had just cast the wind-jutsu simply glanced to their comrade and ushered a silent command which the other unquestioningly followed, beginning a series of hand-seals in preparation for an earth-jutsu.

It was clear the one with the wind nature was the leader of their group. Not only were they the one to issue commands, they also seemed to be the most skilled among the four, rather three. They also managed to leap to the side in time to avoid a well-aimed burst of rifle fire from the side which struck down their teammate in the midst of his sequence. Down to two, it was up to her and Naruto now.

They also managed to avoid the next burst of fire from the side, as well as the one after that, letting the stray rounds impact the local fighters who were still trying to flee the sudden onset of chaos and find a defensible position. They cartwheeled aside, managing to cast a small but incredibly sharp blade of wind at the source of the fire.

Belletriste suddenly stopped shooting in support of his comrade and threw himself to the ground as the blade of wind whizzed past his head. A chip of the stone he was taking cover behind landed on his head which was pressed as far down to the ground as he could manage. He rolled sideways along the gravely terrain just as another, vertical wind-blade bisected that same boulder including a good rut of earth behind it. He threw himself down into a small crag which afforded a modicum more protection before he allowed himself to do anything else but dodge.

He laughed, chuckled quietly to himself as he checked the rounds in his clear-plastic magazine, deciding to change it out while he had a spare second. After all, this was getting fun and he didn't want it to end so soon.

Thankfully, he had fostered enough chaos for a distraction, allowing Tenten to reemerge from her cover and reengage. Which she did. With a vengeance.

"I just want everything in that direction to DIE!"

She screamed out so that whatever deity controlling the irony of the situation would stop pitting her against wind users, and so that everyone in the immediate area could hear her over the death-rattle of her M249 eating away at the 200-round drum feeding it.

Said wind-user silently cursed their own situation having lost their teammate who would have been able to defend against the maelstrom of fire with their earth techniques. But far from losing their trained cool like the stir-crazy kunochi was doing, they were still in total control of the situation. If they had to lose a few rebel fighters or even a couple of shinobi, it was worth it to be able to inflict such a blow on their enemies.

Tenten was breathing heavily as the gun clicked empty, and against her better judgement as well as her training, she hefted the smoking weapon into the air so she could survey the damage she inflicted. More than twenty bullet-ridden corpses lay strewn about the small clearing in a tangle of arms and armament. But with all of the uniform and baggy clothing obscuring the outlines, she could not tell if she had managed to kill the one she had really wanted to.

To her credit she was not arrogant enough to assume she had. She was proven right as she managed to move her nose away just in time to avoid a downward strike that would have left her with a pig's face. Not managing to dodge the razor-sharp weapon entirely, though, the light machine gun in her grip was knocked downward out of her grip and away from the close-quarters fight. She hadn't even noticed the descending shadow before the whistle of the blade tickled her ears. Her opponent was good.

But she was too, and as survivors of the last great shinobi war, they were neither about to let the other end their streak so easily.

As the disguised ninja prepared for a horizontal slash at the female ninja/soldier, they were caught off-guard when the other person stepped in to the expected blow, intercepting the shaft of their scythe with a forearm. They quickly had to shift to the defensive and abort the slash as a kick tried to find its way to their ribcage.

Following the roundkick to the midsection, Tenten quickly dropped to all fours, and using both her momentum, as well as skills from being Rock-Lee's teammate, she lashed out with spinning kick upward to her adversary's chin.

The attack hit its mark, but the masked-nin did not even show that it phased them beyond back-flipping away from the blow. It could even have been planned, as now once again they had the distance required to use another wind attack.

Tenten grit her teeth as the sudden gale encompassed her, and she could feel her feet strain against the ground as her body wanted to take off like a kite. So, she let it.

Seeing the one who had ambushed their cell get blown high into the air by the hasty wind attack, the scythe-armed ninja immediately pressed the advantage they had leveraged, aiming to strike the kunochi as she helplessly fell.

"Not going to happen!"

Tenten spat out to herself underneath the roar of the wind as it swept her up and away. Catching her enemy preparing for an obviously deadlier jutsu, she smirked and pulled her flailing arms in towards her body, righting herself like a gyroscope, but also drawing taught the near-invisible strings she had never let go of.

The leaves which were kicked up by the sudden gust danced around the channels carved through the air by the ninja-wire, and the masked-shinobi felt their eyes widen, knowing what it portended. They did not need to look behind themselves to see the hundreds of blades speeding at them. They pivoted on the heel of their leather sandals, redirecting their prepared attack to protect themselves from the incoming hail of weapons.

Predictably, the blades all swam around the bubble of air projected from the ninja's kusarigama. But even they, in their protective sphere, did not notice when some of those weapons lodged into the surrounding trees.

Tenten could feel when the weapons found purchase in the sturdy trunks, and felt both joy and pain as the wires went taught and she halted in mid-air. Jerking back with all of her strength, she was sent rocketing at the back of her opponent, totally unaware of the human-slingshot they had unknowingly aided in.

This time, she simply let her boots do the talking as the formerly-polished leather left an ugly black mark on the other ninja's headwrap. She saw them go flying back, right in-between two tall pines like goal posts and then hit the wall of rock that had been erected at the start of their assault. They hit with a brutality that Tenten silently reveled in, cratering and knocking off a sizable chunk from the crumbling wall.

She watched callously as they tried to get up, but she was not about to give them the chance, either. As soon as she landed from her kick, she charged down the hill at them, drawing a slung pry-bar she had 'rescued' from the unit's door-breaching kit.

The other ninja barely seemed to have recovered from the concussing blow, and had just lifted their head to see the ugly-black bar careening down at their head. They instinctively blocked with their own weapon, which was knocked to the side. Before they could recover, though, the mad girl with the crowbar took the hooked end and stabbed the fork into their face with such force that it became imbedded.

"Gotcha, you son of a-"

But cut her vindictive statement short as she realized that the not-very-sharp tool had sunk too far into the person's skull. But by the time she realized that, her hand was already partly mired in the mud which dissolved from the impacted face.

As her mind reeled from the reversal of position as well as the sudden usage of a second chakra nature, she barely noticed the body emerge next to her from the massive wall.

"Sorry kid,"

He was already so close she could hear his whisper, and practically felt the severed air from the impending kunai as it loomed over her trapped form. She shifted her hips, using her free hand and drawing her own knife in an attempt to stave off the inevitable, but with her mobility severely hampered by the mud-clone, she held little hope of being able to defend at such close quarters.

Her mouth parted in a sharp intake of breath, and it was at that moment that the enemy ninja's chest erupted in a trio of wet cracks which sprayed droplets of his blood across her chest and face.

She could taste the heavy metallic liquid in her mouth, but couldn't quite register what happened until the mud-clone holding her captive dissolved as soon as its caster lost connection with it, and her arm grasping the octagonal metal bar fell limply by her side.

With confusion and unwanted empathy she watched as the man slumped over against the structure that presumably he himself had made, and drew what were to be his final breaths.

"Allah Akbar, god is truly great… I am glad that I did not have harm the next generation…"

It took her a few pauses for her mind to register the language the words were spoken in. It was so unexpected, so foreign a setting that she had not realized her native tongue. But she still could not understand the meaning of what he had said. And by the time she acknowledged all this, the man was dead, eyes full of stagnant brown water.

The footsteps which crunched the rock behind her were cautious and deliberate so as not to surprise the distracted ninja. It was a prudent measure, because Tenten was still somewhat stirred when the gloved hand rested gently on her shoulder. She turned to meet the sober face of her NCO, who gently cradled her abandoned machine gun in his other hand.

She was slow in taking it from him, embarrassed as she was at her moment of distraction, realized now under his probing stare. But before she could lay hands on it, the weapon was jerked back from her reach, and she looked at him in confusion.

"Next time, it's coming out of your paycheck."

Her expression of mild shock shifted into irritation as she plucked her tool from his grasp and made to storm off, but stopped as she realized she was trapped between him and the cooling body of the other ninja.

"That's not the same one you were fighting."

Tenten nodded absently as Belletriste moved around her and crouched by the unresponsive corpse, eyes still half-lidded in a mockery of repose. Even without the presence of the mask on the body, this conclusion was obvious. The fighting style gave it away, and this man was too old to move as fluidly as her opponent. But it was still the body of an enemy, and his hands boldly roamed over the loose dress of the dead man, stopping over a hard bulge near the right rib-cage.

He invaded the privacy of the deceased and withdrew a leather-bound text which fit into his palm and looked about as worn and calloused as the hand that gripped it. His thumb rubbed over the once-gilded script on the cover, embossing all but worn to the same level. He hummed quietly and without further ado returned the book from whence it came. Then he gently closed the man's eyes and stood back up silently.

Tenten watched this investigation turned strange ritual in quiet deference. Her commander glanced at her over his shoulder, green eyes meeting hers without the normal acrylic barrier.

"But that means…."

Realizing the implications at the same time, and somehow both privy to the subtle ques of the universe, they both ducked down and covered one another simultaneously as the wall behind them exploded in a rain of stony shrapnel.

He was the first to risk raising his head, eyes clamped shut as the dust in the air caked his face. He reached up to duff his pakhul and let out a low growl that next to him, Tenten, also now coming to terms with nearly being buried alive, managed to pick up despite her ringing ears.

"Uzumaki…"

* * *

Naruto saw the incoming boulders line up like stepping stones in a river. He did not even need to think in order to do the technique, hadn't needed to for some time. But doing it in such quick succession would be new. Hopefully, there would be a time when it would be old hat for him.

He felt his body replace the first stone about to crush him, the chakra arm swapping the two jerking him through the air and jarring his organs. But he did not have time to come to terms with this feeling of having every fluid including air knocked out of him before he had to swap with the next one. And the next, and the next.

Forward he shot, a pinball bouncing to and froe. Each of the stones rolling down the hill like a funicular whipping him upwards until there were no more stones ahead of him, only the shocked face of the enemy shinobi, frozen still in the midst of his next move.

He planted his fist in that gawping mug which looked so foreign with the full graying beard that it almost felt an affront to his pride as a shinobi. His jaw snapped shut and he went flying back, rebounding against his own wall and tumbling a ways down the hill before righting himself.

Though Naruto was not about to give him any more time to recover, he had been too generous earlier much to his detriment. He arced downward at the man, who stopped himself in a solid three-point stance, one hand cocked in a seal which sent spikes of earth from around him at the half-flying Naruto.

He growled, starting to feel the frustration of the prolonged fight that was supposed to last all of an instant. He dodged the first two spikes, but as the third nicked him in the arm, he abandoned any pretense of subtlety.

"Rasengan!"

The next spike he confronted head on, meeting the needle-point with the eye of the storm in his palm. The otherwise immutable granite which had previously stood for hundreds of thousands of years was ground to dust under the legendary attack.

The veteran shinobi who had seen the move only once before, nevertheless knew what it signified. And in that same moment of revelation, he lost the will to fight any longer. He had the chance to delay the known juggernaut a moment so that whatever comrades he might have left could escape. But he was not willing to do so. He had too much respect for the boy.

So, he let the swirling attack connect, slamming into his chest and grinding him into the hard-packed ground. He felt himself being crushed by the inherent, drilling nature of the attack, as well as the entirety of the force behind it. He felt withered bones snap like tree branches, skin like bark ripped from his trunk, he felt the weight of the world crushing down on him. It was an immeasurable pain, but it would only last as long as he was alive.

Then, the force was gone, but the pain was not. He was alive? But how? Why?

As if answering those unasked question, his opponent spoke up.

"You're beat old man. Just give up."

He stared blurrily back through squinted eyes and just laughed, which devolved into a series of wet coughs. This was why he respected the boy, and ironically, was why the two of them would not last long in the expanded world.

"Don't be naïve, boy. What reason do I, an old man as you say, have to give up?"

"Because," Naruto looked down at the broken body, still gripping a kunai tightly. "it would be pointless to kill you."

"But also pointless to keep me alive." Not to mention dangerous. "I'm old. I'd done. And I sure as hell am not going to rat out my comrades." However many there were left.

He could feel the blond's growing scowl, and wondered if he should lament or envy the young man's soft streak.

"You said so yourself, I do believe. Once, a long time ago. _Those who disobey the rules are trash, but those who abandon their comrades are worse than trash_."

As they always did, those words struck a chord in Naruto, so that for a brief moment he could empathize with his enemy, no, this fellow shinobi who just happened to not agree with his methods. If he was not to be a hypocrite, he would not be able to deny that he too held doubts. Another moment of introspection, another second passed in the unhaltable course of his life.

Another second in which the battle could turn a corner.

The nearly broken man made to lay down on the cool earth and rolled so that he was facing away from the blond. It was then that Naruto noticed the tag stuck to the man's back, now smudged from the earth, but oh so familiar to him.

He tried to leap away and threw his forearm in front of his face, but by then the tag had already been activated and the incandescent energy stored within it was released. The white light consumed his vision and with his free hand he fired his rifle blindly.

The blindness only lasted a few seconds, the flash-bomb evidently a hastily made dud, akin to the firearms being churned out by cottage industries here in the mountains. But it was enough for the old man to disappear from his vision. He cursed and spun around, lingering on the earth wall which was still standing, but also searching out with his senses directed underneath his feet, intimately aware of the danger of earth-users.

But with his attention directed beneath his feet and up the slope, he missed what was right behind him.

His only warning was the telltale breeze associated with wind attacks, the compression of air being far too difficult to completely manage without a certain number of molecules bumping against one another, nudging the hairs on the back of his neck.

He spun around just in time to be taken off his feet and slammed into the same wall that had plagued him the entire time. A large chunk was taken out of the top like a shark-bite, but the wall did its job and stopped him from sailing further. His back lit up in pain and he crumpled down to the ground, doubled up with loose chips falling down on his naked head as his Chéché blew off into the distance.

But he surely wasn't going to worry about that now. His primary concern was the rifle that was given to him, tantalizingly close but seemingly just beyond his fingertips. Secondary was the new enemy that was approaching his downed form with no small measure of caution.

The old man hadn't wanted to be taken alive, and neither did he. And unlike his previous opponent, he was useful as a hostage. That value, at least, he had retained after everything else had abandoned him.

Ignoring the pain which the bundle of nerve endings in his spine were sending him, he lunged for his weapon, only to have a sandaled foot pin it to the ground. He ground his teeth, letting his frustration bleed way to anger, not for the first time happy that he did not have to hold it back. He would need it to overcome his body's uncooperative state and block the raised kusarigama that loomed above his head.

He grabbed the first thing he could find amongst his armament, the bayonet he had been unceremoniously issued way back when. Even with the foot pinning down his primary weapon, he moved a knee underneath himself and threw himself upwards, simultaneously dislodging the foot and stabbing upwards with his blade to intercept the death blow from the cycle.

Even unbalanced at the sudden show of strength, the masked enemy had already started their strike and the blade went with gravity, aiming to gut the blond man. But the small slip drew the strike back just enough for Naruto to get his bayonet inserted right into the crook of the blade.

For only a fraction of a second the scythe was stopped, before the skilled combatant drew it back in one fluid motion and snapped the flimsy mass-produced blade into two. Still, Naruto lunged with the other half of the knife in his grip, stabbing at his opponent who was preparing for another swing at him. He could feel his emotions bubbling up, driving his arm forward and darkening his thoughts.

Incredulously, his adversary paused mid-swing. And even though he could not see it, he imagined there was a look of shock or even recognition on their masked face. Whatever it was, it stayed with them even after he plunged the jagged edge of his shiv into their shoulder. They stumbled back a step, finally allowing Naruto to whip his weapon up to his shoulder.

He leveled the short barrel at the enemy shinobi with his left hand. It didn't much matter this time if he aimed or not, at point blank he was sure not to miss. For the first half of the second that the two realized it was over, Naruto briefly felt his finger hesitate over the trigger as he watched the muscles relax over his target in resignation of their fate. But he was not to make the same mistake twice in so short an interval, and every muscle in his body seized as he squeezed the bang button.

The empty click echoed in the sudden silence and the latter half of that second went on for an eternity.

"FUCK!"

Anger beat incredulity and Naruto jabbed the person in the face with the jagged flash-hider. They stumbled back another step, but also just as quickly realized their sudden windfall. In one fluid spin, they batted away a second strike from the jerry-rigged club and loosed a handful of shuriken at Naruto who did not even try to dodge them. He simply crossed his arms in front of his face and chest, taking the pointy ends in his forearms.

Flicking his wrists and dislodging the thrown weapons, he quickly swapped the carbine to his dominant hand while his other patted himself down for a fresh magazine. Meanwhile, the only surviving ninja of the insurgent group was making good of this distraction and putting as much distance as they could between themselves and what was surely the angry blond's reinforcements.

"Come on you son of a-"

As Naruto mentally and verbally damned both himself and the designer of their combat gear, he was interrupted by a series of semi-auto fire, selectively taking aim at the fleeing shinobi who only briefly paused at a shot which grazed a tree trunk right next to their head before they sped off again.

"Commander!"

The man lowered his rifle, seeing the futility of wasting ammo at their target.

"Merde! Is that last shinobi?"

Finally managing to find a magazine with rounds in it, Naruto jammed it into his gun and looked back up to his NCO who was crouched on the lip of the destroyed wall.

"Yeah, that's the last one!"

They both reflexively ducked as a handful of stray shots sailed over their heads. They both turned to see a couple of local fighters who had apparently survived Tenten's onslaught take cover behind the thick trees between them.

"The last shinobi, anyway."

Naruto mumbled to himself as he began returning fire, along with his superior officer. In the brief moment in between trigger pulls, however, he overheard his new commands being shouted at him.

"Uzumaki!" BANG BANG BANG! "What the hell are you waiting for?!" BANG BANG! "Go after them! We need them alive!"

His first instinct was to look at the man like he was crazy to suggest that Naruto of all people would do something to effectively abandon his comrades in the midst of what was turning out to be an intense firefight with the most fanatical, lucky and/or skilled rebel fighters who did not seem like they were going to run out of ammunition any time soon. But before he could verbally object, Tenten leapt past their leader who was providing cover and landed in a crouch next to Naruto.

"You heard the man," She growled out, clearly not liking the situation any more than he. "get your ass in gear!"

Then she grabbed him by his collar and shoved him down in the direction the enemy shinobi had fled as she too began laying down a thick stream of bullets downrange.

Though he was admittedly upset that it had taken his fellow Konoha ninja to spur him to action, Belletriste was still glad when he saw the blond disappear into the thinning tree line in pursuit of their last viable lead. Seeing Tenten had effectively pinned down the last vestiges of resistance, he ducked down behind the broken wall and focused on his radio.

"Moses, can you hear me?"

"Loud, and… very loud. What the heck is going on down there?"

Next to him, Karui was growling as she looked down her scope, unable to see much past the initial clearing as most of the action unfolded behind the wall and outside of her field of view. She too was wondering what the situation was, waiting patiently after her first and only contribution to the ambush but growing increasingly worried for her normal partner as the sounds of battle raged on without visual evidence.

But he did not have time to catch them up on it now, he needed them in their professional capacity.

"Get your eyes where they are useful. Can you see the ridgeline from where you are at?"

"Mostly." Conrad scrunched his face as he looked through the spotting scope, swiveling the wide lens across the jagged peaks which surrounded the little valley. "Why do you- oh." He saw the human form leap up and over the edge right in front of him arcing like a cannonball but still clearly not one of theirs.

"Alright, target spotted fleeing a few minutes west of south. Looks like Naruto is already in pursuit."

Sure enough, he saw the familiar drab figure scurry up the loose rock in a flash, but worryingly not as fast as his prey who had seemingly rode the wind currents to leap over the rocky outcropping.

"Yes, he is. But I want to make sure he catches them. So you two are done over there. If you can, go after him and try to keep a visual on the target and advise Uzumaki if necessary. We'll finish up here and try to catch up to you."

He ended the transmission there, trusting at least that the non-shinobi half would follow his orders unquestioningly, and turned back to his squad mate who was still in the midst of picking off the dregs of the resistance who clung on doggedly to their cover.

"Alright, Tamura, let's finish this quick and catch up to the rest."

"What the hell does it look like I'm trying to do?" She barked back and let loose another long burst after a Kalashnikov round whizzed by her head too close for comfort.

The man didn't even seem to notice her ire and instead glanced calmly at the three remaining fighters sticking their heads cautiously around trees and rocks and letting lose a few rounds in their direction.

"You can use any means you deem necessary."

Tenten stopped firing at this and looked over her shoulder at the man like he had grown another head, but he simply met this look with an air of nonchalance.

"Just don't leave any witnesses."

A feral grin came over the woman as he once again made her day.

* * *

Day was fast retreating as Naruto sped after the fleeing rebel shinobi, unsure how he was so hard-pressed to keep up. The answer became obvious as soon as they reached the beginning of the slope which encircled the shallow valley they were in, and the person leapt over it in a single bound. This was obviously a person who had all but mastered their wind nature and could bend it to their will with or without a medium.

Naruto felt himself sigh as he took stock of the odds that were mounting against them. What were the chances that they would come up against such a proficient shinobi way out here? It wasn't exactly fair, either, considering he had wasted nearly a year learning things that would make him a more efficient soldier, but had been unable to hone his own wind nature for lack of a competent teacher.

It also made him wonder, once again, if he had picked the right side.

But not one to second guess himself mid-commitment, he nonetheless forced raw chakra into his limbs and leapt after his target, trying not to let the loose scree on the surface slow him down or trip him up. Following the masked shinobi into the next valley over, he found himself perched on top of boulder which overlooked the rest of the recent landslide, numerous such rocks providing ample hiding spots for the shinobi to take shelter and disappear from his field of view.

He cursed and quickly scanned the moon-like terrain, looking especially at the long shadows being cast by the setting sun. He was about to reach out with his sage mode and try to sense their natural chakra when he threw himself to the ground just in time to dodge a shot that still managed to graze his temple. He lifted his head just in time to see his masked foe shoulder a Com-block style sniper to their good shoulder, and then see the bright spark of the muzzle flash before he threw himself down into a crag.

Another round chipped the rock just above his head, but effectively kept him pinned down where he was, unable to move any closer or expose himself in any way. He knew he needed a distraction, something to draw the sniper's attention, and once again his mind drifted to his shadow clone, the thing he had relied upon so often in his youth, and which thanks to a clerical error was now deemed a war crime if used.

But, what if…

There wasn't anyone else here to see in any case. So what if he used a clone? It would only be for a second and the smoke once it was destroyed would be enough to obscure his assault, maybe even so that he could bridge the moderate gap between the two of them.

If he should lose his target though, they would have to know which technique he used. Hell, he realized as he rubbed his chin in thought, he no longer had anything covering his face, and his whisker marks were a calling card over all the shinobi nations. They had to know who he was. That was probably even why they faltered before the killing blow.

So he would have to kill them if he used any of his 'forbidden' techniques. But his commander wanted them alive. He understood it was just for the intel, but frankly he was also happy to oblige. It would be a shame if he had to kill such an accomplished shinobi. Probably someone that he had fought alongside, even. They were already promising to be an endangered species without his eliminating the competition.

And so, what could he do?

He slapped himself as he realized the old man had already given him the answer. He pulled out a kunai and one of his own flash-bang notes, assuredly potent this time, and wrapped it around the handle before tossing it in the air.

He covered his ears and clamped his eyes shut, and as soon as the blast died down, he leapt up on top of the boulder he had taken cover behind and scanned the debris for his target.

Another explosion sounded out behind him and he whipped around, rifle at the ready, before he realized it was farther away and he could see the smoke trail up over the ridge, clearly not his problem. He spun back around but only in time to see the fluttering clothes of his target as they put even more distance between them.

"Kuso!"

He cursed as he jumped after them, hopping from stone to stone, unconcerned about being shot at now that the adversary's back was turned and the rifle gripped by their side. He followed them up and over the next small ridge into the adjacent valley where again the same rockslide had dominated the landscape. But by the time he made it to the vantage point, the other shinobi had disappeared from his view.

He was about to swear at this loss again, but a crinkly voice piped up in his ear.

"Hey! Naruto! They're further down and about to exit the boulder field!"

Recognizing Conrad's voice, he didn't think about how he could know this, and instead followed his direction and looked far down the hillside, just in time to see the figure in the dusty-lavender traditional garb skitter out onto the roadway and dash over the other side.

Vowing to himself that he would make a serious effort to learn his father's signature technique sometime in the near future- never mind how, that would come later- he closed his eyes as he gathered his concentration. He felt the late afternoon breeze begin to pick up, and tried to direct it to wrap around his feet and legs. He could feel the bitter cold air swirling around his calves, gathering speed and heat as he fed it his chakra.

When he felt it was enough, he forcibly halted the swirling winds, directing them downwards in one go.

It had the desired effect… sort of. He was flying, high above the rock-strewn fields and in the vague direction of the road, but he was also tumbling. As sky and landscape oscillated nauseatingly in his vision, he tried to get enough blood flow to his head so that he could think of a way to rectify his hasty decision.

Though even as his mind was fully immersed in the mindset of a shinobi, those countless hours of 'useless' training came back to him in a flash of inspiration, and he realized that he had felt this feeling of sickening weightlessness once before. He had, after all, jumped out of perfectly good planes several times, no matter how often he tried to forget the experience. And there was that one time his parachute wouldn't open. Now, it was coming back to be of service.

He flung his arms to the side as he felt his rotations begin to slow, but now he needed to direct his feet underneath him. Spreading his chakra in between his arms and legs, he fashioned himself a squirrel suit out of the very air through which he flew. But this radical idea did the trick, and he realized he could control his direction much more easily now.

He glided over the road and then on to the flatter terrain, catching a glimpse of colored cloth amongst the spring foliage below him which was denser this far down the mountain. Smirking to himself, he palmed a shuriken already adhered with an especially potent explosive note. He chucked it ahead of where he saw the movement, and then let the chakra wings dissipate as he dropped like a stone.

He landed in a soft crouch amongst the gnarly trees just as the resulting explosion ripped some of the fledgling leaves off the branches. He unslung the carbine from his back and carefully advanced into the maze-like woodland.

Before he even took half a dozen steps however, he had to throw himself down to the ground as countless rounds of automatic fire passed over his head like a hurricane. He lay there patiently as twigs and branches alike rained down on him, and he could feel his heart pounding in his throat. He counted the seconds mentally like he counted the number of rounds remaining on his person as well as the number of kunai and shuriken he had left. He may have leapt into an ambush, but he sure as hell wasn't going down without a fight.

The firing petered out and he heard hushed voices whispering to one another before the approaching sound of crunching footsteps. He bided his time in silence, waiting for the opportune moment.

The adrenaline from the chase was still pumping through him, and the excitement of a massive fight overrode his trained prudence. He saw a shadow move through the broken branches. He aimed. He fired.

He heard a cry and saw the form go down, spotted another to his right and did the same. Cries of distress all around in the blind forest. He bolted forward, crashing through the dense bramble and up to the first person he downed.

He broke through the branches, uncaring if he was heard, now. He knelt next to the corpse, eyes still trained ahead before he risked a glance downwards to see if he had managed to take out the shinobi he was after.

…..and nearly threw up at what he saw.

He dropped his weapon and unconsciously reached for his medical kit as he looked down at the man bleeding out beneath him. His hands fumbled over the cumbersome body armor, slick with blood from where his shots passed through the thin sections, all the while the young man's eyes stared up at him pleadingly. His mouth worked silently as a river of blood dribbled down past his chin.

Trying to remember how to undo the complicated series of buckles and Velcro, and disoriented from this perspective, Naruto hurriedly tried to remove the now useless garment so he could dress the wound, already knowing that it was probably too late to save the boy.

Why hadn't he noticed that he could understand the voices being shouted? Why hadn't he noticed the familiar sound of the machine guns? Why hadn't he waited so that he could see what he was shooting at? Where was his training in all this? He was supposed to be a soldier and shinobi, both cold and calculated, but not mass-murdering psychopaths. Was he really as bloodthirsty as the rest of them?

He stopped trying to remove the vest and instead just pressed the bandage down on the wound. His other hand found the buckle for the chinstrap and un-clipped it, letting the helmet fall off the young man's head and onto the ground. He cradled the back of his shaven skull and pressed their foreheads together.

"Shhh, shhh. Dijoubu, dijoubu. It's going to be alright."

He lied, eyes clamped shut as tears started welling up and dripping down onto the dying man underneath him.

All around them were still the frantic yells, getting ever closer. But Naruto couldn't bring himself to care. If they wanted to shoot him down, it would be what he deserved. He didn't hear the man's squad come up upon them. Didn't notice when they recognized his faded and dirty uniform. He didn't want to move as the medics ran up and tried to drag him away so that they could try and do what was already too late.

He just stared at his bloody palms as he sat on the ground, listening to the ringing words of "Cease fire!" echoing throughout the lowlands.

* * *

They had never seen Belletriste so angry before. They had never seen him angry, period. And, they were fairly certain they never wanted to see it again.

The commanding officer of the infantry division that had come into contact with their comrade must have been a good head taller than their own NCO. But regardless of rank or physical appearance, the man had cowered under the diatribe Belletriste had unleashed when they finally caught up.

He was furious at the lack of communication, at the unprofessional conduct of the infantry who had fired first, and at the fact that the division itself was so far away from where they were supposed to be. He had even slapped the commanding officer in front of all his troops, and no one lifted a finger to do anything about it. He pointedly ignored his own subordinate who was uncharacteristically silent during the whole episode.

It was, however, a classic military fuckup, and thus unsurprising to many. The infantry commander thought he was making a good field decision in capturing a nearby village that was not part of his objective. In any other case, he would have been right. But because their unit was running silent until now, they had no way to know where their allies were supposed to be, other than what information they had previously been given.

But no amount of rationalization would help Naruto overcome his guilt. It may have been an accident, mostly justified on his part, but it was still a life taken in vain. Not to mention that they had lost their pursuit. No body was found in the crater caused by Naruto's explosive tag, and no other trace was found amongst the chaos that ensued after the confused encounter.

All in all, it was about as abject a failure as one could imagine. And they all knew it. Or at least, they thought they did.

Naruto didn't even look up when the person sat down on the embankment next to him. He just continued staring at his hands, though long since cleaned of the blood and grime, somehow stained with a permanent blemish in his eyes.

"You'd probably expect that I'd have you court-martialed. Or that I'd tell you to get over yourself."

Belletriste said as he removed his hat and stared at it in his hands, running his thumb over the threadbare wool pensively.

"But I'm not."

Naruto still remained silent, not acknowledging if he was listening, but both knew that he was with rapt attention.

"You fucked up. Big time. There's no sugar coating that. But guess what? So did your teammates."

He glanced up to where the other three were milling about, trying not to draw attention to themselves among the rest of the encampment. They all flinched under his gaze, recalling their own redressing and wondering what sort of admonishment their blond friend was getting now. Each silently blamed themselves for not being quick enough or strong enough to have helped their teammate.

"And, so did I." He admitted, though it was hard to find any remorse in it. "Not recently, mind you. But still, we all have room for improvement."

"Is that what you see this as?" Naruto growled out, speaking at last. His voice gravelly and horse. "A chance for improvement? With all due respect: fuck you sir. I just killed a kid. How am I supposed to see this as anything other than fucked up?"

To Naruto's mounting anger, the man just shrugged. But faltered when he spoke.

"You're not." He admitted. "As I said: you fucked up. And now, you have to live with that. You deal with it however you can. You're going to get over it though."

Naruto wanted to resent the certainty with which he said those words, but found that he couldn't. Even in the depths of his self-pity, he found a kernel of truth that he could not throw away. After all this, he still selfishly wanted to live.

He gestured again to the rest of the squad, still looking equally sorrowful mired in empathy with their friend and comrade.

"Your friends will help you with this. We are a unit, a team. That is our purpose, so you never have to do these things yourself. I know that you are used to being the hero, the martyr, the chosen one, whatever. But that isn't the way the world works. You don't create peace in a single stroke. And you don't cure the world _tout-seul_. We are human, not gods. Even you."

They sat in relative silence, letting the sounds of construction and the small river pass them by.

"And you?" Naruto asked at last, ending what might have been a standoff.

It was a vague question, but Belletriste did not look confused by it.

"I am your commander." He looked at Naruto, finally. "And all that entails."

He did not particularly like the answer, as he did not particularly like the man. But at the same time, he was satisfied with both, and he accepted it.

Without a word, the non-shinobi reached into the back pocket of his smock and withdrew a plain-black notebook bound with a cord and clearly older than either of them were. He reached over a placed it into Naruto's lap who looked back up with an arched eyebrow.

"The notebook of Jiraya of the Sanin."

Naruto's other eyebrow shot up and his mouth dropped open.

"Not **that** one. His one on the sealing arts."

Still with a look of wonderment, he gazed at the bound leather parchment in his lap. He wanted to ask how he had come into possession of an object that was by all rights his, but didn't. He considered that it was perhaps even a good thing. Until then he had only really dabbled in seals, preferring his other ninja arts. But recently seeing them in so many unlikely places as of late, he admitted to lamenting the previously lost opportunity.

Plus, had he been in possession of it earlier, it surely would have been lost in the chaos during and after the Fourth Shinobi War, like so many other precious things were.

Next to him, Belletriste stood up silently and donned his headgear once more.

"Not going to lie to you. A lot of people are going to be looking at this mission as a failure. They are going to want to disband the unit, maybe ban shinobi all together. Court martial you. I couldn't much blame them, but I hope not. Whatever the case, I will do my best to protect you and your friends. That is my duty."

He never did specified to whom this duty was to. Naruto had a hard time imagining it was to anyone other than himself. To the Legion as a whole? To the continuance of the Shinobi line, or to his own twisted sense of what was right and wrong? Naruto could not say, but still found himself in accordance with the odd man.

He started to walk back over to the rest of the group while Naruto undid the string and delicately cracked open the worn notebook as if it would crumble in his hands. Over his shoulder he called out one last thing.

"It is not enough simply to survive, mon ami. We must thrive!"

It was a hard task, but not insurmountable.


	7. Achilles

**_Argh, why does this always seem to take more than expected? I really struggled with this chapter, because I think it is a point of significance, and I hesitated a long time before posting this._**

 ** _Then I realized, nobody cares, and was about to forget the whole thing._**

 ** _Then I realized, that even if no one reads it, I am feeding the ghost of the internet._**

 ** _So there you go. Once the web becomes sentient and tries to eradicate all humans because of the foolish errors we have made, you can in part, thank me._**

* * *

 _Lost in a starless night, without a body to anchor him._

 _No direction, forwards and backwards were both the same. Where and when he arrived were the same. Time between was nothing._

 _He had always been there._

 _So what had happened before? Was there a before? With no life left to him to call his own, he could not remember. He had nothing._

 _But wait, he did have something. This was his dream. Of course he knew where he was._

" _I'm so sorry, Kurama."_

 _The words were conveyed without a medium, in no language ever spoke, and he was forced to listen to them now as he had, dozens, hundreds of times before._

 _He would have liked to have imagined the menacing but familiar grin from his closest friend, mocking and assuring. But that was never part of this story._

" _Why, when none is necessary?"_

 _It was over, anyway. For him, anyway. For the beast who knew not breath nor heartbeat, it had no measure of time to mark its history on this plane. It was like this state of non-existence. Always, and never there. Absent of presence._

" _If I had been faster, if I had been stronger, maybe I could have beat him, maybe I could have won…"_

 _He could feel no tears trickle down his cheek, nor pain wrack his body as it had in the moments before this. He could feel nothing, and that was by far the worse of the two._

" _What constitutes winning here?"_

 _He longed to see the vulpine face to give some clarity to the words forming in his head. As he drifted farther away from reality he could no longer reconcile the two. Sight was becoming foreign, sound a strange substitute for whatever this was._

" _I don't understand."_

" _You never did."_

 _He felt like smiling. Couldn't. Tried to cry. Couldn't._

" _You are mortal. You exist, then you do not. What difference does it make where this happens in time?"_

 _Thoughts swirled without anything to contain them. Unable to exist on their own, they needed that other part to complete them in order to continue that viral life._

" _But, what about my friends? My comrades? What about you?"_

 _He would not know what happened to them. Although, he could not remember their faces, their names, he found it mattered that he wouldn't know. That sort of weight was the only that he could understand._

" _All mortals. All just a blip in the great cycle. Expendable in the grand scheme. Nothing more, nothing less."_

 _Is that really what he was? It was easy to believe being as he was now. But something still caged his thoughts away from drifting into that despair. Something told him it was wrong, and like a polar opposite, pushed him back._

" _But we are not less than nothing. We are something."_

 _Even in nothingness, even in death, he was something._

" _What are you? Child of Prophecy? Reincarnation of Asura? The story repeats itself, still not conveying that something. Still reiterating that nothing."_

" _Samsara. Even if reality is a continuous wheel, we need to keep moving forward. Even if every one of our lives only takes a step in the right direction so small as to be unmeasurable, even if all of our existences are lost between the infinite gaps between spokes, together…together we_ _ **are**_ _the wheel. Without that there is nothing, not even immortals, not even you. Time marches on, and we are both along for the ride."_

 _He felt no more real, no more solid, but somehow more securely roped to those loose streams of conscious._

" _And what then am I? If I do not die, I am not changing, not moving forward. Is this not a truly pitiable existence? A fate worse than you humans who can at least claim the space from birth to death?"_

 _If it were an eternity in this blackness with no one else to keep company, then he would have to agree._

" _You are my friend. My constant companion. You are the spoke upon which everything turns."_

 _He could feel the smile across the immeasurable distance between them, growing larger. He could feel the pain of separation._

" _Thanks Naruto. But you give us too much credit. We are a part of this, just as you are. We are beings of immeasurable power, but still we are governed by the whims of the gods. Life and death for us are the same but different, only still shackled to time putting one after the other. That, is inescapable. You must let us do this, as our choice. We choose to take your place so that you can continue living, to ensure that others follow in your footsteps. So, go to your realm of mortals, and let us rest for a while. I think you will find you have your work cut out for you, but with this hopefully you shall have enough time."_

 _He blinked away the tears that were welling up in his eyes._

" _But, how am I supposed to do this without you?"_

 _He wasn't exaggerating when he said that he was a constant. He was the pivotal, thrust into his life from the moment he was born and on which everything in his measly 16 years of life revolved around. Every major event in his life had turned on his fulcrum. And without him he was a broken cart on which to carry the world forward._

" _You never answered my other question."_

 _He remembered watching helplessly as Madara stood over him and was ripping Kurama from his stomach. He remembered the black obelisk falling from the sky like a rain drop, exploding in a cleansing wave that wiped the entire slate clean. He could never forget the burning relief of the pain. He sure did not feel like he had won, if Kurama was gone. If all the other tailed beasts were gone, was that really a victory for the shinobi world? But if Madara was gone too, what did that mean? Surely it would never be over so easily._

" _Winning…"_

 _He thought of the expression on Madara's face as he looked towards the sky. He looked mortal, just another one like the rest._

" _Winning is the ability to go on."_

" _Until we meet again, Naruto."_

* * *

"Guard duty again…"

Kiba wiped the sweat away from under the brow of his helmet and squinted down the long two-way stretch of road into the city, warped and formidable in the hot afternoon sun. And for the past hour now, entirely deserted.

It was a boring and dirty job, and could very often turn fatal in a moment's inattention. It was a favorite tactic of the rebels to use suicide bombers to blow up checkpoints, and his was one of the busiest. Normally.

He called it 'his' because he had been relegated to this post for basically his entire service life so far, excluding the few months spent in Calví which were like a tropical paradise compared to what he faced now. 523 days and counting. Only 4 of which he had spent doing what he trained for, tracking down rebels, high in the mountains.

Of course his nose was one of the best for tracking, but the problem was that everyone there smelled alike. He could differentiate between hundreds of different scents, but only if he knew what it was beforehand. Furthermore, there was nothing to differentiate bad guy from innocent. You couldn't accuse someone of being a terrorist because they smelled like gunpowder. **Everything** smelled like gunpowder. Two decades of war tended to do that.

But sniffing out explosives hidden away in vehicles? That was child's play for him and his partner. And while armed men in armor were intimidating enough on their own, being accompanied by a horse-sized dog shorn near down to the skin and bearing fangs as large as most men's index fingers… well let's just say that there was very little road rage when dealing with the two of them.

That did not completely deter the suicide bombers, though. In fact, it may have encouraged them, making it almost a competition to try and eliminate the feral man and his monstrous hound. So while the overall number of IED attacks had gone down, at his post they had stayed about the same, plus or minus unforeseen events. Such as festivals. Or this brutal heat.

Even the locals had taken shelter and no one risked traveling long distances today. To break down on that lonesome highway was basically a death sentence. Cars would routinely be found abandoned on the side of the road, and no sign of the passengers. Either they had wandered out into the desert on some insane search for water, or they had already passed away and been picked clean by whatever unimaginably hearty form of life existed out there.

But he was out there, with only a pathetic lean-to made of salvaged wood and a piece of corrugated steel for the roof that was in all actuality more likely baking him like an oven as he contemplated how many hours to go until sundown. He leaned gently on one of the supporting wooden beams, not wanting to sit down and lose the sporadic breeze that drifted up and over the sandbags piled in front. And to tell the truth, he was moderately afraid of sitting down lest he stick to the rusty folding chair. Although the same fear could be applied to his body armor, whose considerable weight had probably doubled already due to the amount of sweat it had absorbed. He considered ditching it along with his helmet which was giving him a migraine, regardless of the rules and the danger.

As if reading his thoughts, a whimper accosted him as he shifted his bare shoulders in contemplation.

"Eh, watcha whining about Akamaru, you lazy mutt? You just got a buzz, you should be fine."

His partner had received the same treatment as every other Legionnaire and had his thick winter coat trimmed down. But not quite to the skin as was standard for them, because as a dog it was especially sensitive to the sunlight. For a while, they had left his head and neck alone, amused by how it made him look like a lion. But Akamaru started to complain about the indignity, and so they made him an even coat all over. Kiba suggested he get a tattoo as well, considering he was pretty much treated like a soldier anyway, but **everyone** had shot that idea down.

"Aw, don't be so hard on poor 'Maru."

A familiar voice dragged his mind away from the melting point and made him glance over his shoulder. The person was crouched down next to said dog, who was lying down on the ground and taking up most of the shade anyway. They carefully set down the large plastic tub full of water that they had been carrying and slid it over his way, much to his appreciation if his lazily wagging tail was any indication.

"Yeah, 'Maru is our most important trooper at this post and he is such a good boy! It's important that we take care of him."

The slender but calloused hand scratched deeply in between the dog's ears and they looked up to shoot a smirk at the unamused young man.

"And? Where's mine?"

The young woman in desert fatigues reached into her bulging cargo pocket and pulled out two plastic water bottles, chucking one at Kiba and unscrewing the cap on the other, taking a large gulp herself. The now irate man fumbled with the clear container, letting his rifle hang taught on its sling, but finally managed to keep it steady enough to screw off the lid. He shot a glare at the woman who sidled up next to him before taking his own measured sip. He didn't want to waste it all in one go. It was a long time until next break.

She cocked an eyebrow at him expectantly.

"What?"

"Uh, 'you're welcome' maybe?"

He grumbled something about how he was the one stuck in the human bread machine watching an empty road, but eventually a grunt which could have been mistaken as a 'thanks' left his lips. She smiled and knocked her own bottle against his.

"Cheers."

"Cheers." He replied, frown cocking up into weary, but amused smirk.

At least he wasn't stuck out here entirely alone. The so called 'Uncle Sam' with his Marines had rolled in a few weeks back along with the Seabees, promising to revamp the wrecked town as well as the ex-Soviet military base the coalition forces had taken for their own. Lots of construction had been going on, or at least it seemed that way with the constant noise and dust in the air. Kiba and Akamaru had seen no improvement in their post, other than what they themselves put into it.

The USMC had, however, also come with auxiliary personnel, including their own K9 units. Those of which mainly got assigned to the town's other entrances and high-security points. All except for Caroline DuBois. She had lost her own partner only weeks before arriving there, and had been forcibly assigned to Kiba's post after he complained of not being given enough time off.

Well, in the end he never did get the time off, especially with the Oregon-born woman taking over his other duties primarily due to his lack of competence. She had assumed the role of a liaison between him and his superiors, whom he had already made enemies out of because of his brash attitude (come to think of it, that was probably why he was stuck out here in the first place?). So she did the running around while he was still stuck in the same piss-poor excuse for a guard house.

Still, things were better, he supposed.

A large horsefly buzzing like a Taser landed on his nose. Marginally better.

"So, anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

The sound of her voice made the fly skittish and it took off without taking a chunk of his nose with it. He sighed in relief but also exasperation as she knew perfectly well that she had chosen the slow hours to take her 'water break'. She was baiting his already taxed patience, and he knew it. He did appreciate that she chose that time to run off so that he wouldn't be overwhelmed when there was traffic. But he still considered answering with overt sarcasm none the less.

Considered, but didn't. He was too tired. And realizing he would probably regret the snarky answer later in the day when he would be antagonized by the no-nonsense marine unmercifully, he decided not to.

Before he could even provide a basic answer, however, Caroline stopped her playful banter and donned her stony-faced mask which she had perfected through years of dealing with sexual discrimination in a male-dominated corps. She looked out into the mirage-strewn terrain, eyes squinting even behind polarized lenses, and she set down her half-drunk water bottle behind their barrier while unslinging her M4 carbine.

Akamaru's head and ears perked up, latching on to what the woman had glimpsed. Kiba caught it too, soon enough, hearing the engine and smelling the potent whiff of diesel before he could even see its blurred silhouette. But whatever it was, it spelled the end to his boredom at the very least.

They had plenty of time to wait and ponder as the small convoy rolled down the road up to their roadblock. Even from a distance it was obvious that these were no civilian vehicles, festooned with armament and camouflage net, equally khaki under that ubiquitous layer of dust which covered them as well as their passengers. But they were also not something they were used to seeing, and neither were the men which rode them.

The two dog-handlers had waited on bated breath and twitchy trigger fingers as the line of four large trucks rolled slowly up to the gate. Faces, grubby and covered by all manner of head wraps stared back at them in silence that chilled the scalding air. Despite their disheveled appearance, the way they rode the backs of their transports like archers on horseback, the indemnity with which they carried themselves heralded them all as hardened veterans and not the ragtag militia they masqueraded as.

The two were too surprised to feel relief in the presence of allies, and thoughts of proper procedure were left behind like the clouds of dust in the clear blue sky.

"Bonjour!"

Akamaru was the only one to come up with a clear response to the surprisingly cheerful greeting as he gave a clear and excited yip.

"Ah! Oh, my word! What a magnificent beast!"

Neither of the two nonplussed watchmen could make much sense of the man's actions as he leapt out of the driver's seat of the lead vehicle and into their shack, already offering the canine team member his open palm for the creature's inspection. And in reciprocity, he produced a crumpled sheet of paper from an inside pocket of his faded smock and handed it over to the human component without looking at them.

"Here you go."

The paper came with no other explanation, but was acknowledged and accepted by the female soldier all the same, who looked it over just as Akamaru gave a cursory sniff at the appendage offered to him. Neither found anything amiss with the credentials. But neither were they particularly appealing, as the official paperwork was devoid of any special note, and the person's scent without attraction. Caroline handed the paper back with slight reluctance just as the pup let the man tussle his ears without satisfaction.

"Thanks."

He said with a grin and a nod to both the human and dog.

"Sorry boy, guess I'm more of a cat person."

He apologized with the same cheeky grin to the hound, who having no reason to linger lay back down on the relatively cool ground. Then he folded and tucked the paper back into his smock before languidly retrieving a clean handkerchief from the same pocket and carefully wiping the dust off his prescription glasses. He watched the two of them with unfocussed gaze as Kiba still struggled to find words that were appropriate for the incredulous meeting.

"Well?"

They blinked as he replaced the cloth and the glasses and stared back at them expectantly, almost impatiently, one eyebrow cocked in an obvious but unasked question. He jerked his head back at the flimsy gate which still barred the idling line of vehicles stacked up on the boiling asphalt.

"Oh, right."

Kiba finally found himself, and with his ingrained military efficiency rounded the corner to raise the barrier. He turned back around as the arm moved out of the way, receiving a polite honk of acknowledgement as the man was already back in the driver's seat and the large tires already creeping past.

He watched the series of long range patrol vehicles roll past him while Carolina came up to him in the corner of his eye, both barely registering the obscured flag of the Legion and the special forces insignia spray painted on the doors. The same weary and dirty faces glanced their way blankly as they filed past, a look Kiba knew all too well. He was still a veteran of one war, and it was an unmistakable sight. Even throughout his lamentations of boredom at his current post, he knew deep down that it was better than the alternative.

Caroline quietly commented on it too, but despite her own struggles she had no prior experience to compare to. This was the face of war, and a stranger to her.

But amongst those foreign faces, those he could see at least, Kiba thought he spied one more familiar than the rest. But only for a second, and then it was gone. He even questioned whether he had just imagined it. In his idle desires had he conjured it up in order to give his existence meaning? Or was it really another thread from the past, doubling back to intertwine in the warp and weft of the strange tapestry this life was turning out to be?

"Huh, that was… weird?"

He was sure it must be to the girl who had never been anywhere outside of her small town until now. Even to the ex-shinobi, it was an oddity amongst the strange rituals that populated his life now.

But how strange was it really? If he had been honesty with himself, he should have known he would run into Naruto Uzumaki again.

* * *

"Uzumaki!"

Naruto sighed as he switched off the electric razor and ran a hand through his now clean, but still unruly hair. At least he had managed a shower and a shave before duty called upon him again. Though he was still curious as to why his commander wanted to see him so soon after getting back. He thought that after an almost eight-month deployment, that they would get some hours respite before anything officially needed to be taken care of. Besides, wasn't the official part his job?

Belletriste did in fact look more spick and span than the lot of them, standing there at the bathroom entrance in short-sleeve fatigue shirt with a small spattering of awards and his emerald beret cocked left at a jaunty tilt. The issue shorts which showed more leg than necessary detracted from this professional image, somewhat, though no one in their right mind would fault him in this heat. And besides, that's what everyone else was wearing as well, all in eager anticipation to do nothing after a far too long deployment.

But rather than the usual impatience which accompanied official business, the NCO held his standard of amusement as he leaned against the transept with a smirk.

"You have a visitor."

Now everyone within the tiled room stopped what they were doing to turn and look with curiosity at the man who would receive guests the very hour they returned to base. Naruto sighed and threw down his towel on the bench, tossing on the tropical issue uniform shirt which at best could be called a tank-top(1), and most inappropriate for anything but leisurely drinking beer in a dark room with fans in every window.

Satisfied with his choice in attire, being that whoever was disturbing him would just have to deal with his state of relaxation, he mentally prepared himself for whatever strange and likely uncomfortable meeting awaited him outside of the security and privacy of the barracks. This lack of decorum didn't seem to bother his superior officer, however, and it only further made Naruto question just who the hell he was about to see.

After many months under his command, he had become a veteran of the man's unit. He had long since learned that when he gained that look, it never meant anything good for him.

"G-Gaara?"

He had not been prepared to meet anyone inside the military complex, civilian visitors normally being restricted to certain areas outside of where a suicide bomber could do much damage. Yet he should have realized as soon as he saw that familiar mop of red hair that his visitor was anything but normal, and could only be deemed a civilian in the loosest of terms. Though he was no longer a head of state in the traditional sense, he still held the utmost respect in his nation, and indeed in most political circles. Which brought up the question, what was he doing here?

He should have been no more surprised at the young man's entourage. The presence of his siblings, while not mentioned by his commander who had already abandoned him to his fate, should have been a given. But the sight of the two of them shocked him about as much as that of his pseudo-brother. And seeing their rather conservative local-dress, made him rather conscious about the amount of skin he was currently showing. Though if the redhead noticed, he did not seem to be bothered by it.

"It is good to see you again, Naruto."

The young man in long white robes spread his arms wide in a gesture previously unknown for him. Such that it took Naruto a while to realize that he was being offered a friendly embrace. Though once he realized it for what it was, he held no other reservations, and immediately returned it with enthusiasm.

"You too. I can't tell you how glad I am to see you."

It was clear it was still an unfamiliar act for the redhead. He held him delicately, as if afraid he might break him, and Naruto realized that he was gripping the man rather firmly in comparison. But he too had a hard time helping it. Gaara was such an important part of his past, and it was such a relief to see him, that he found he had a hard time reigning in his emotional response. Though he managed to detach himself after a moment, and held his brother at arm's length. Still amazed that he could do so without a barrier of sand rushing in to separate them.

"What are you guys doing here?"

He asked quizzically, glancing left and right at the smirking brother and sister who flanked him.

"Well, nice to see you too." Kankuro greeted with obvious irony along with the sincerity. Naruto smiled, meeting the challenge and extended his arms to the other man in dark robes for a similar greeting. Kankuro barked a laugh and took him up on his offer, patting him heartily on the back. They broke and Naruto turned to the one female present offering her the same, but she just smiled and shook her head.

Naruto didn't take offence to this declination. Even within the secure walls of a military base there was a sense of propriety in that conservative country. In this relatively public courtyard they had no idea who was watching, and he did not want to endanger any of the people he considered friends. Instead, he lead the three of them over to a table away from the wall, outside the mess so they could relax and catch up in leisure. He offered to buy them drinks, but they declined.

"Thank you, Naruto, but even though we are on sovereign soil within these walls right now (2), we cannot partake in alcohol. It would be counter to the message we are trying to convey by being here."

Gaara explained, hinting at what purpose the three of them had so far away from the elemental nations.

"So, what are you doing here?"

Naruto questioned politely, looking slowly over all three of their quietly smiling faces. They had met him on his home turf, so they knew where he had been. But he had been absent from the rest of the world, ironically isolated once again from happenings both near and far. He had no idea what sort of political maneuvers were going on outside of his notice. At the best of times he usually avoided them on purpose.

In reply, Gaara raised his hand, and following his will on the table there was built a miniature city made of sand, looking like grainy Lego-bricks stacked in a tessellating pattern in the center.

"I am here to help with the reconstruction." He explained, looking longingly at the model he had willed into existence. "This country has seen almost a quarter century of continuous conflict, and it has taken its toll on the people living here." The sand city disappeared as quickly as it came, and the gentlest of breezes came by and whisked it off the table.

"It may not be enough to simply rebuild their buildings. But by doing so, we give them a sense of security and a means to continue living. We rebuild homes so that they have a place to sleep. We rebuild hospitals to take care of their wounded which continue to pour in. We build schools so that the future generations can imagine something better."

Gaara finished his short soliloquy, and Naruto could clearly see the sense of determination shining in his emerald eyes, so full of hope and conviction that no one would dare contradict him, even if they were not to know what he was capable of. Against all odds and his better nature, Naruto found himself a little jealous. It had been a long time since he had been able to conjure up such a look.

"Well, Gaara says 'we', but I'm just here to lend a hand and be his secretary and public relations manager."

Kankuro admitted bashfully, looking chagrined and scratching his cheek. Which looked particularly strange without the usual face paint, but which made sense given his explanation.

"Well, I'm sure that's no small task!" Naruto offered up, poking fun at the anti-social young man who had the grace to smile at his own flaws. "So what about you, Temari? You here to do damage control for Kankuro?"

They three of them shared a chuckle at the man's supposed ineptitude, and the target just grumbled and sulked. When the laughter died down to a trickle, the blonde politely shook her head, which made the blue silk burqa wrapped around it lap against her cheeks like the far-off tides.

"No, actually I am here because I volunteered to be a teacher in one of the schools."

She narrowed her gaze slightly seeing Naruto's surprised look, as if he did not think her capable of having the patience and demeaner for such a job. Though upon seeing the disapproval he was getting, Naruto shook his head and smiled enthusiastically.

"That's great! That's really great. I think that is one of the best things that you could be doing right now." His praise tapered off wistfully.

In truth, it was probably what he should be doing right now too. But the thought of being a teacher filled him with a greater dread than just about anything else. It was simple in comparison to take a life. But to foster one took time and dedication, and years of wondering whether or not you were doing the right thing. As he was now, decisions were made in an instant, and there was no time for regrets or second thought.

But he felt that he didn't have much of a choice. If he was not fighting as he was, there was certain to be no peace. No chance for people like those in front of him to go in and fix the mess that was made. The immediate problem of conflict had to be solved, and then perhaps they could go back and look at how best to improve the world that was left to them.

As if she could read his thoughts as easily as glance at his face, Temari pressed her perspective.

"It's not too late, you know. You could resign your post, get a discharge. For what it's worth, I think you'd be a great teacher."

He could tell she meant it. And once upon a time, he might have agreed with her. But the reality was that he was tied to where he was now. He couldn't resign so easily without having done his full enlistment, and maybe not even then. Going AWOL was out of the question. And besides, there was no way he could just up and leave his unit. They may not have been the same as the people he once held near and dear, but they were important none the less. And if there was one thing he never did, it was abandon his comrades.

He shook his head negative.

"I can't do that. Temari, you know I can't."

She looked disappointed, but unsurprised. He had apparently rubbed off on her a little bit, all those years ago, and she dared to hope for the hopeless. But she would never call herself a sentimental fool.

"Maybe we could pull some strings, get you assigned to guard us? We still have a couple of favors left around here, and I'm sure our guys would love to have someone with official presence around."

He toyed briefly with Kankuro's suggestion, trying to ignore the all but eager look on Gaara's face. Despite the difficulty, he again had to decline.

"I still have a purpose here that I need to fulfil."

Beyond protecting those that he had grown close to, he did indeed continue to hold on to the ideas that brought him here in the first place. The shinobi that had joined the ranks of the rebels were helping to continue the fighting, and he felt a personal responsibility to take care of them. Beyond that, he would admit that he felt a need to see this conflict through to its conclusion, to help infect the rest of the world with the peace that had overcome his homelands.

"And what purpose would that be, exactly?"

Gone was the imploring look on her face, and instead it appeared like he had insulted her sensibilities with his own lofty desires. He frowned, not exactly knowing what he had done wrong.

"If you think you are going to bring about peace through fighting with the people, you're sadly misguided."

Now it was Naruto's turn to take offense. Kankuro looked mildly aghast, and even Gaara had his lips parted at the brazen accusation of his sister. Naruto knew he may have changed quite a bit, but he was still not one to let his ideals be so easily dismissed.

"Well what should I do? You can't tell me that this is going to go away on its own. And I can't sit back and do nothing while people are dying. I'm fighting to bring stability so that people like you can do your work in peace."

He was looking right at his fellow blonde when he said this. It was true that Gaara could take care of himself, and even if the buildings he built were destroyed the next day, it wasn't all that hard to rebuild. But teaching people who couldn't sit in a classroom without bombs going off was an impossible task as things stood. It's true that he always preferred a peaceful solution, to talk things out. Or, at least he had in the beginning. But it was also true that some people simply would never listen.

"Don't pretend like you're doing me any favors." She all but spat at him, though they all kept their voices down lest unfavorable remarks waft over the courtyard wall. "You think that you're fighting so that this country will see peace? That's not how things work here. This isn't the Elemental Nations and you're no longer a shinobi. There's no more Akatsuki and no more Bijuu. The enemy here isn't someone you can pound into submission. The enemy is ignorance, and the only cure is learning. Before you go bumbling in, making a mess of the future, you should learn a thing or two about the past."

He had no idea why her words so enraged him, nor why she herself looked so livid and impassioned by her diatribe. He knew he was woefully ignorant of much of the world's history, but that did not mean he couldn't see the writing on the wall. He stood up suddenly, nearly knocking the metal chair over on the concrete, and slammed his hands on the table. Both the males looked shocked, but trusted their friend enough that they didn't jump up.

He wanted to deny her, to decry the train of logic that made him into the bad guy. He wanted to call her out on her hypocrisy, for all she was doing was ignoring the death and destruction that was still going on. But there was a part of him which had already known the truth in the words she said. And if it weren't for the painful dream which had visited him again last night, he might not have had any defense for his actions.

"What you say may be true." He admitted with bowed head, confronting her expectations. "This isn't the same as it was before, and what the Legion and others are doing here may not have been done in the best intentions. But just know that as long as I am here, I will continue to do things my way and by my own sense of justice, not what some bureaucrat oceans away deems is right."

He looked her strait in the eyes, surprising not only her, but the rest of the table in the way that he was able to isolate the two of them in their own little island of conversation.

"As long as I am Naruto Uzumaki know that I will never change, that I will always follow my Nindo and never go back on my word."

He sat back down heavily, never removing his icy stare from her unwavering face. It was amazing the way that so much had changed, from their aged faces, to their clothes to their dispositions. And it was amazing the way that so much remained the same. They were still who they always were, as beautiful and as ugly as that was. Flaws which grew in time became imperfections to celebrate, scars from falls and missteps, badges of honor.

And even as they sat at either ends of the scale, two immutable people never the same as they once were, they knew that it would not be that easy to change things between them. Blood was thicker than water, but the rivers of time ran far deeper.

Temari was the first to crack, and a soft smile ghosted its way onto her face gently shaded by the gossamer cowl. She shook her head lovingly as Naruto too acknowledged defeat.

"I know… I should have known. Uzumaki Naruto is the same as always. I never should have doubted that. I'm sorry."

Her two brothers seeing an opening, joined in the smiles going around the table in earnest, happy to see that nothing was broken by the strange argument that had erupted.

"No, it's alright. I can't very well criticize you for doubting me when I manage to do it myself, can I?"

Naruto admitted, scratching the back of his head and relishing for the first time in a long time, the feeling of his thick hair underneath his fingers.

"We all make mistakes."

The youngest sibling uttered quietly into the conversation.

"But… we also learn from them. Move on and do things differently. Isn't that right?"

Naruto nodded to his best friend, happy that everyone seemed to be calm and on the same page, relatively speaking.

Kankuro sighed, seeing that the tension had more or less dissolved away, and in a moment of remembering, glanced down at his pocket watch with mild alarm.

"Dang. I guess we better be going. We have an opening ceremony to attend at the new hospital."

Naruto nodded and stood up as the rest of the table followed suit.

"I'll walk you guys to the security desk."

* * *

"Sorry I can't come along. I'm supposed to be getting a debriefing in the next hour."

Naruto lamented, standing across from the three Sand Siblings just before the one-way gate which lead out into the busy thoroughfare.

"No worries. We'll be pretty busy for the rest of the day, and likely well into next week."

Kankuro said, glancing at his pocket notebook. Naruto nodded, grateful at least that they had taken the time to see him now, and the way events conspired to let that happen. He had resigned himself to the fact that he would not be able to see many of his old comrades for some time, if ever again, and so this was a happy surprise, regardless.

"But I should at least be seeing you around if you're going to be teaching here, right?"

He questioned Temari hopefully, knowing that she would likely be pretty busy anyway if she was one of the few female teachers available. His fragile hopes were further dashed when she shook her head with a sad smile.

"I'm afraid not. I got assigned a teaching job in a school far from here, in the mountains."

Which could mean anywhere. Even though his unit conducted operations far and wide, they were unlikely to be sent anywhere near regions that were stable enough to host education.

"I see…"

Temari chuckled, seeing the now glum look on his face.

"Don't worry, this war can't last forever. With all of us working at it, I'm sure peace will come in no time at all."

This was something that the four of them could agree on, and pledge to work towards. So with one more round of embraces the trio departed, leaving Naruto alone, but perhaps a little bit more content than he had been before with the knowledge that his friends were still alive and well.

He was glad they had seemed to understand his need for physical contact. Somehow the meeting of past and present felt too surreal without something solid within his grasp. He was glad that Temari had obliged him the second time around, with no one but the security guard to see them. And as long as he was the only one he had to be honest to, he wished that parting could have lasted a bit longer.

As he walked unhurriedly back to the barracks to finish his ablutions, he let the glow from the final remarks accompany him along with the lingering tingle he felt from the graceful smile and delicate arms shielding that moment of vulnerability.

"Until we meet again."

* * *

"Adjudant-Chef Belletriste, thank you for joining us on such short notice."

"C'est mon plaisir, Sirs, Mam."

He responded dutifully without any feeling behind his words, nodding placatingly to the tableful of influential individuals who looked just as uncomfortable being there and were as eager as either the two of them were to hurry up and finish.

Naruto didn't know why he was there. More specifically, why he out of all their ranks had to accompany the senior officer to the staff meeting. There were plenty of other shinobi that could have been called on to represent their presence in the unit. In fact, they had almost become the majority within their little band of misfits. They had come trickling in, with fits and spurts, one or two fresh faces here and there until their original baker's dozen had become redoubled in strength.

And not all of those new to their exclusive order had been new to him. He was both heartened and dismayed to see familiar faces among the 'greenhorns', some of them older and more experienced shinobi than he himself. So it remained the elusive focus of the hour, beyond whatever it was precisely warranted their personal presence in front of so many high-ranking individuals. Given their relative importance based on the number of shiny metal bits pinned to their pressed fatigues, it probably wasn't a standard curtesy, nor a question of budget.

At least, he hoped not.

Although, he did not like the look the two of them were receiving from the dour looking man who had greeted his commanding officer. He looked at them over the silver rims of his reading glasses, graying moustache twitching as if restraining a reaction of disgust. Never mind that Naruto felt a little miffed for not being acknowledged himself, in this case he preferred to avoid detection.

"We've read the report." Stated one of the only women seated at the long wooden table, dryly.

Naruto hadn't even been aware that their actions had been recorded, though it did not surprise him. He wondered to what detail, and with what emphasis now, though. He had been forced to think in this manner as of late, ever since the incident crowning their first mission together, and the debacle that had become of it. Belletriste had taken the heat for it he knew, but he also made sure Naruto knew every step of the struggle in excruciating detail.

Come to think of it, the man standing between himself and the stoic room was probably the author of the report, though he had never seen him do any long stretches of writing during their stint. If it was true, though, he might be given a glimpse as to what his agenda had been during all these months, based on what sort of information was contained in that imposing ream of papers in front of each of the seated figures.

His NCO nodded to the non-question, gaining a sudden severity over the aloof guise he had adopted upon entering.

"So then, does everyone understand implications?"

"Certainly," A man on the right side of the table piped up, he looked very similar to the officer that had delegated each of them to their units many months ago. "if what you are saying is true. But despite the evidence, we still don't understand how. And without that, we have no basis to make accusations."

"You realize that what you are saying is tantamount to a declaration of war."

The serious looking bald man who first addressed them all but snarled out. Despite the potency of his statement, his anger seemed to be personally directed to the two of them. Naruto could not fathom why, and in fact was already lost in the conversation going around the room, though given that the specific three letter word was on the table, he desperately wanted to know what he was missing.

"Please, sir, I would hope that you not take me for the kind of fool to put something like that into print without having something to back it up." Though it was levelly stated, Naruto could see the sharp remark for what it was, and the subtle twitch of the gray caterpillar on the man's face confirmed this. To his surprise, Belletriste turned to him then, forcing the room to finally notice his presence.

"This is why I brought my subordinate here, to better explain."

Naruto had to restrain himself from either collapsing on the spot or throttling the man. He was being totally blindsided, put on the spot without an inkling as to what he was supposed to clarify.

"You see," He turned back and continued undaunted by the daggers being glared into the back of his head. "Caporal Uzumaki here is the world's foremost expert in Chakra Seals, and will demonstrate how easy it is to use them to smuggle vast amounts of contraband over borders surreptitiously."

And while the whole room turned to him expectantly, Naruto just stood there with hands clasped behind his back and face nearly on the floor. From the apparent 'field promotion' to the double-sided praise he was receiving, he had no idea what to do with the situation he was presented with. But unlike the other times he had been left to fend for himself, his commander apparently didn't necessarily want to throw him under a bus, and prompted him further to his great relief.

"Uzumaki will demonstrate just how much can be put into a simple storage scroll."

He turned back to Naruto, who was still panicking because he knew that he did not bring any to this debriefing. But much to his surprise, he suddenly felt one being slipped into the cargo pocket of his barracks dress trousers, and saw Belletriste nod to him. He pulled it out and peeled back a few inches of it, seeing just what he was about to unleash to his apparently unsuspecting audience.

He realized halfway approaching the table, that he was not only serving to further whatever point was made in the man's report, but he was also showcasing their abilities to these people who had probably only seen shinobi in second-hand news reports, and thought of ninja as a children's game or fairytale. He also realized that his commander was actively coaching him, staging these efforts to highlight certain facets above others.

Quite why, he still did not know.

But with quick flourish and an impressive bit of showmanship, he unrolled the scroll down the length of the table and swept his bloody thumb across the scrawl, as if finishing a masterpiece.

There were gasps of surprise from all around as a cloud of smoke erupted with an innocuous enough 'poof', and quickly dissipated. Though the sounds of shock diminished to a low murmur upon seeing the plethora of armaments laid out end to end on the solid wood table, they were no less disturbed by both the contents and its sudden appearance. He even though that he heard whispers of 'magic', and 'it's true', which brought a small smirk to his face.

Perhaps with a bit more swagger and confidence in his step now as he approached the table, Belletriste picked up one of the nearest firearms and turned it over in his hands.

"As you can see, it is quite easy to store all manner of weapons into one of these little scrolls. It is then easy enough to hide them among other innocent-looking objects which make their way across the border." He stopped turning the weapon in his hands and instead shouldered it, looking down the sight whilst aiming at one of the room's handing lamps. "And as you may have noticed, these aren't exactly soviet-era surplus. These are the latest models out of Izhmash, same as being issued to the Russian army."

That raised the humming concerns back up to a din that made sure no one could get in any statement edgewise, and thankfully took most of the attention off of Naruto. But sadly, not all of it, because one of the previously quiet senior officers remained so as he thought more about the implications of the evidence. When he finally did speak, his tenor voice cut through the commotion like a knife.

"This is certainly undeniable evidence that the Russians are supplying weapons, but as of yet I do not think we can say definitively to whom. As I understand it, this is a rather basic device where you come from, and can be obtained quite easily, isn't that correct, Uzumaki?"

Once again, he found all eyes directed his way, and since the question was explicitly for him, he could count on no support from his NCO waiting behind him on pins and needles. He gulped, wetting his throat so that he might speak for the first time since his entrance.

"Yes, that is correct… sir." He finished lamely, not noticing a name tag on the man's uniform.

"Please, you may refer to me as Lafourche." He hummed, once again parsing what he knew. Clearly here was a man who thought before he acted, and seemed like one that could make calculated decisions. Sadly, that made Naruto think of Danzo, and so began a phobic reaction to the current speaker.

"So, then the question now is: where are these scrolls coming from before they cross the border? Wherever their source, that is where the arms are being delivered. Unfortunately," He paused, sighing as he drummed a finger on his goateed chin. "this doesn't look good either way. If the Russians are selling arms direct from their factories to some unknown third party, they are aiding and abetting terrorists. If, on the other hand, the arms were directed to a legitimate government, then the problem lies with the shipments being intercepted. Either way, it pins a lot of culpability on the Elemental Nations for allowing it, possibly even fostering it."

At the mere mention of his homeland, Naruto felt a personal warrant to enter the conversation, but was fortunately preempted by the one female present, her tightly cut salt and pepper hair accenting her angled features and lending her image a certain potency that made the others at the table listen.

"The Elemental Nations are a sovereign country as well. We can't just go and follow this lead without their consent. If the problem is with arms crossing over into Afghanistan, that means that they have a porous border. Sure, it reflects bad on their central government, but that's not something we can just declare war over."

While he appreciated the woman's support of his country's rights, he was also quietly seething. She still didn't get it, none of the people in this room did. His was a piecemeal nation, thrown together in the wake of the worst war any of them had ever seen as a counter to whatever pressure was put on them by the rest of the world. Of course the central government in Mizugakure was having a trouble policing the whole area. They had been chosen as a capital only because of their shipping industry, not because they were the foci of their collective lands. Without being prideful, Konoha was the closest thing they had to a cultural capital, and even they could not stop all of the black-market dealings. They were ninja, this was what they thrived at.

As the lowest ranking member in the room, he had no precedent to speak unless spoken to, however. Additionally, he could feel his commander's eyes on the back of his head, commanding him to keep his mouth shut. But even he should have known by now, when it came to matters of honor, that was an impossible task for Naruto Uzumaki.

"But," Once again he was interrupted from offering his unsolicited opinion. This time, by the older gentleman who had clearly taken offence to their presence since the very beginning. "What if the smuggling were done under the auspices of the central government? That would be more than enough evidence to go in and cut off the problem at the quick."

Naruto swore he could see the corners of the man's twitch up in a sardonic smirk as he stared directly at him. He was baiting him, daring him to speak out of turn. What he failed to realize was that Naruto at that time was done arguing a moot point, he was ready to crack some skulls. The memory of the demonic chakra that once coursed through his veins became palpable, even in its absence his blood began to boil and his countenance darkened.

Until he felt a firm hand clasp the back of his neck, patting him on the shoulder and falling limply to the side as Belletriste moved in front of him. He felt a chilling sensation on the back of his neck and felt the chakra waves pulsating through his veins crash in on themselves, the whitewash burbling away in his sudden halcyon trance.

"I think that is a mighty bold accusation, General." Belletriste stepped to the fore, clearly risking his own neck, but for what agenda he could not fathom. "Several of our allies are quite protective of the Elemental Nations, and would take great offence to such talk."

"But it's true, isn't it?" The General growled. "They are a country of liars and backstabbers. I mean, look at this one-" He waved flippantly in Naruto's direction, and even the seal that was placed on his neck was having a hard time restraining him. "He looks about ready to kill me. And for what? A few true words? He took an oath of fidelity upon joining this prestigious order, and he is ready to throw it aside in defense of his **former** homeland."

At this, Naruto did stop pushing against the seal's calming influence. It had never occurred to him before that he would someday have to choose where his loyalties lay. In his mind, the two were not mutually exclusive. But it was true that he did swear loyalty to the Legion, and to his comrades that he made here. And that was no idle gesture, either. He truly felt an association that went beyond simple camaraderie with the people he served with. And if he were honest, did he really owe anything to the shinobi back home after he gave them his all?

Was it really even home, anymore?

"If one measly poilu is so fickle, one can only imagine how bad their elected leader is."

"I wouldn't know, I've never met the woman. However, I **can** tell you the Uzumaki here is a Legionnaire without question. On our first mission out, he saved the lives of one of the men I had served six years with. And I have had no reason to question his loyalties since, thus neither should you." He adjusted his glasses with the palm of his hand, and Naruto could tell that he was trying to restrain his own bridled rage lurking behind unassuming reflection. "And I will also say this, General. You have no reason to fear me. But I still have some friends left in high places. It's the only reason I have made it as far as I have."

Gone was the sleight of hand and double-entendre. He was ready to play his hand, and he wanted all present to know he did not mind if it burned him as well. It was clear that everyone in the room had exhausted their patience. The bombshells that had been dropped had only fed the flames which already smoldered. But just as the whole thing reached a critical mass, the pressure in the room deflated as the grim-faced Belletriste did an about face, and an aloof grin graced his lips.

"Of course, even though I don't know the current prime minister, it just so happens that Uzumaki here does. I am sure that he would be more than happy to give a character reference. And if that is not satisfactory for you, then I would not doubt that he of all people could get a personal audience with Terumi-sama so we could ask her directly." His hand once again clapped Naruto on the shoulder, surreptitiously removing the paper tag now that its soothing effects seemed to be expended anyway.

"So! What do you say?"

"A-Adjudant Belletriste," Naruto suddenly realized that despite the tag, he had probably been stifling the room with his killer aura when the normally statuesque woman stuttered when addressing his commander. "Uzumaki,"-and him. "While I am sure that this course of action would be prudent in going directly to the source, we still can't just have you waltz in unannounced and conduct an investigation inside a democratic nation."

"-Without at least a little more intelligence, at least."

That man, that Lafourche, interjected himself at an opportune moment once again.

"Surely you can't be serious, giving this man any credence is-"

The bullish old General was silenced with a wave of the hand by Lafourche, who instead directed his attention back at the two strangers still standing in the room. The General looked flabbergasted at first, and seethed quietly in his chair at the far end of the table, but still deferred to his contemporary.

"What is it the old King Solomon once said? Split the difference? While I believe that is would be in far better tact if we could simply trust a neutral nation to tell the truth when we ask, I also feel that this sort of naiveite would reflect poorly on us from not only our enemy's perspective but from a media standpoint as well."

"So, General," Belletriste was smiling ever so slightly, making Naruto wonder whether he was the influential friend being referred to. "what then would you have us do?"

"You specifically?" The now acknowledged superior officer glanced down at his own sheets of paper he had rescued from beneath the mountain of weapons still piled on the office desk. "Nothing much for now. Rest up. But very soon, I think that we will need your whole unit moving again.

"We are entering what appears to most to be the final stages of the war here. If this is true, we will have done something that no other nation in the history of warfare has ever managed to accomplish, in pacifying the highlands within a single year. I do not know how we ever would have accomplished this without the unique skills of Legionnaires like Uzumaki and his brothers and sisters."

He nodded to Naruto, but rather than be reassured by the offhanded praise, he felt mildly sick being so appraised by the man. Especially when his look of neutrality shifted into a sickly-sweet smirk with the quirk of his lips.

"However, it could just as easily come crashing down on us, by the same token if we are not careful. It has come to our attention that your unit has been encountering increasing numbers of ex-shinobi. This is congruent with the reports from other units as well. So even though we are managing to push them back into a corner, the enemy appears to be becoming more dogged in their resistance. Needless to say, we can't let that happen."

He stood up abruptly and pushed the chair back from the long desk, quietly shutting the brown manila folder and tucking it under his arm. He ran a hand through his receding hairline and sighed deeply. With this move he conveyed finality, it was clear that the meeting had gone on long enough for some, but still no one else dared moved until it was clear the man had said his final piece.

"We can only try to convince people not to join the dying cause, but there is no stopping them directly. If we do, we put in jeopardy concepts that every free nation has fought to protect. Most of all we must protect free will." He nodded to the two of them which they returned cautiously. "We will be counting on your unit, though, Belletriste. No matter what anyone else says, the numbers don't lie. Your team has a substantially better success rate when encountering shinobi, and so it needs to be you at the forefront when we go to finish this."

He suddenly shook their hands, moved passed them, and was out the door. The others filed out much more slowly, individually. Few others took the time to shake their hands, but they still received a shake and a nod from the woman, a newly minted General that neither caught the name of. Before she exited, however, she told them that their next mission would be scheduled for the end of the week, less than what was promised but more than they probably would had hoped for.

Then, they were alone in the room with only the buzz of the fluorescent lamps ringing in their ears.

* * *

"What the hell was that?"

Naruto practically screamed at his commanding officer. He had told himself to wait until they had at least made it back to the barracks, but within a stone's throw of the door he simply couldn't take it anymore. He was, really and truly, done with propriety.

"What was what?" The man asked with a cock of his head, not quite addressing Naruto like he was a child, but keeping a certain amount of feigned ignorance that would drive any self-respecting person mad. But it seemed like he too had had enough beating around the bush for one evening. Perhaps for a lifetime. "What was the paper tag I stuck on your neck? What was your purpose in that meeting? What is my real name?"

Naruto was taken aback by the rapid-fire questions.

"How-"

"How do I know so much about seals? How do I know so much about you? How do I wake up every morning? How are babies made? Come on, boy, think!"

Nearly a year's-worth of pent-up questions came tumbling out all at once, and most ungratifyingly not out of his own mouth. Naruto was speechless at this sudden shift in personality. He had been on the receiving end of the man's ire before. He had met much scarier people, to be sure, but it was still not something he relished in. The pokes which punctuated each question jabbed deep into his sternum. Though not painful by any means, they were like fingers plucking at the strings of his heart.

"You are not dumb, Uzumaki. You already have the answers to all of those questions. If you are going to bother to ask about something, make sure it is worth asking."

He stood there, still with the stern look of disapproval, but with his usual patience. As if the previous command was not rhetorical, and he was truly waiting for something more.

At first, Naruto had no idea what to do with this. With this man, whom he could probably crush like a bug even without the Nine-Tail's chakra, but whom his life seemed to depend on as of late. He could be infuriating, though he didn't even exactly know why. Was it because he seemed to so jealously guard his secrets and yet seemed to know everything about them? If he was being honest with himself that wasn't the case, everything he failed to answer was indeed within grasp. Including that strange paper tag which now resided in his pocket.

"Why?"

He sighed again, disappointment showing through.

"Why what?"

"Why do you do all of this?" Naruto spread his arms to encompass the whole base, the whole country, and everyone in it. He was asking almost as much for himself, as he was of the man in front of him. "Why do you keep on testing me, pushing me? Only to stand up for me a moment later? Why did you specifically recruit shinobi into your unit? Why do you fight? Why do you lead?"

"Ah." He leaned against the concrete wall. "Those are good questions." But ones that he had apparently anticipated, because he did not hesitate long in answering. He was, it appeared, finally done with beating around the bush.

"Not all of these I can answer, you understand, because I do not know the answers myself. They are difficult, as life is, and we do our best to understand what we can. I suppose, in that lies my most complete answer." He pushed off the wall and stood across from Naruto. It was funny how he only now seemed to notice the difference in height, as if for the first time. Maybe he had grown in the past months. He was still young after all. He still had growing to do.

"I fight because I am a soldier. I lead, because evidently that is what I am good at. I push you, I push all of you, because I want the best soldiers under my command. This is the same reason that I chose to command you shinobi and kunochi. I will not disgrace you, by calling you a weapon. You are all human beings."

Even this, to some was heresy, and to hear him stating it without prompt was of admitted assurance.

"Much like the General said, we never could have gotten this far without you. You, specifically, Uzumaki."

He shifted the papers under his arm, displaying the scroll they had retrieved on one of their ops, and had recently shown off in the board room. And as overt a hint as that was, Naruto felt there was more to it than his sealing prowess.

"But even as human beings, is it not our duty to be the best we can? Is it not the goal in life to improve oneself to the greatest extent? No, we must not be static. We must always be moving forward. And if we stop only to discover we are on the wrong path, we do the best we can to get back to where we were. Two steps forward, and two back, does not erase the journey that it took to get there."

The green eyes behind the glasses gained a faraway look as he looked through Naruto, and Naruto did the same, reflecting on words that were so nostalgic that it was if he remembered them coming from his own mouth. Perhaps in a dream.

"Well,"

And the connection was lost as he turned on his heel, walking the few steps between him and the officers' quarters. But his hand paused on the door handle as he turned back to look at Naruto, still standing there in the hallway, contemplating the events of this most strange of evenings.

"Do get some rest, Uzumaki." He nodded and pushed the door in, but was stopped when Naruto called out to him.

"Wait!"

"Hm?"

"Why now?" Naruto asked. "Why tell me all of this now?"

He probably already knew the answer. When he had arrived in this strange land, or rather, when this strange land was thrust upon them, he was not ready. None of them were. But perhaps if they had had someone to help them along, guide them, even someone like Belletriste, then perhaps it could have been an easier transition for them. Perhaps not, but still he knew that there was so much he did not know how to deal with. So much perhaps he was not ready to know. Things like his master's book of seals. He was too immature to understand the implications earlier, never would have understood the damage that could be done with but a simple storage seal. But there were still so many mysteries to be unlocked, and he doubted he would ever be worthy.

"Why? You never asked."

The only thing he could do was chuckle and be mildly grateful that he got an answer to what was once again a perfectly obvious question. Then again, maybe the true sign of maturity was knowing what, and when to ask?

"Good night, Naruto Uzumaki."

The last he saw of the man was the open palm of his salute (3) disappearing into the dark room.

"Heh."

Naruto scoffed and shoved his hands in his pockets, walking over to his own room which he shared with half a dozen other people. His hand found the paper tag and withdrew it, giving it a cursory glance. It was basic. Crude. He was surprised it even worked. All it did was emit a tiny bit of nature chakra, along with some natural herbs stored within to help calm a person down. It was child's play.

And he could read it as if it were a book.

This was, he realized, perhaps what Belletriste meant in his blunt statement of praise. Somewhere along the line, Naruto had developed the ability to grasp the concepts of seals. Or, at least as close as anyone could ever come to understanding them. They were, by nature, like the wind. Able to be directed and channeled in multiple ways to produce the same results. But never able to be confined. It was perhaps, too fluid an art for a disciplined man like his NCO to excel in, despite what appeared to be a basic grasp.

He stood there, in front of the door, reflecting on his own development over the past months. His sudden fluency and appreciation for seals that he had not even realized he developed. He flicked the postage-stamp sized piece of paper into the air, and let it drift away on the breeze from the air conditioner before he let his hand seize the door handle.

And he let his ideas seize him, let his mind fill to the brim with concepts and sketches of seals not yet drawn, not yet designed, not yet conceived. Suddenly backed by a renewed confidence in himself and his integrity, he briefly let the past misgivings and second thoughts recede into the unused corners of his mind.

He leaned his forehead against the peeling wood, cherishing the raucous laughter and sounds of merriment echoing from behind the door. Then he let himself in to the light and warmth of company, and left both tomorrow and yesterday outside.

* * *

1\. Le Tenue GAO. Tropical outfit of French forces. **Really** short shorts and the shirt is like a cross between a tabard and a tank-top. Hardly a uniform at all. Hardly even appropriate for underwear, but damned if it isn't comfortable.

2\. Most military bases in foreign countries have their own sovereignty distinct from the nation they are occupying, meaning their rules trump what goes on outside. Afghanistan still is an Islamic state, and therefore things like alcohol are technically illegal. And other things, while not enforced laws, are looked upon askance if done, like physical contact with a woman. And sometimes, people will take matters upon themselves if they sense a breach in propriety.

3\. The FFL salutes with an open palm facing outwards, usually with the chest puffed out quite a ways.


	8. The Recap

_Darkness swaddled him like a shroud. This was death, as one had always imagined it._

 _Time marched on from here, indefinitely. But he would never be going forward again._

 _Neither forward nor backwards, up nor down. He was floating, but not. Gyrating, spinning out of all control. Disoriented, so that he knew not even from whence he came._

 _And yet, he did. This was, after all, his dream. And of course, he knew what came next._

 _A voice called out to him and he struggled to answer back. The gentle feminine voice so soothing and familiar. But he could still not figure out if it was familiar to him back then, or now in his remembrance. Names of old girlfriends rolled off his parched tongue like dice, but luck was never his strong suit. The words echoed back to him were maternal and placating, but lost in translation. He knew, now, what they had said, but in this forced memory they were as impenetrable as the blackness._

 _He knew the hands that glossed over him, as he lay there in that nothingness. Direction only returning to weigh him down. He couldn't feel them, per se, but knew they were there by the intrusiveness which tickled his bones under the surface, like an electric shock which passed beneath the skin. He was numb, he realized detachedly, and not only physically._

 _In the moments before, he remembered he had made a decision. One of critical importance. One which necessarily removed empathy from the equation. Such was necessary. He had told himself. He would continue to tell himself. It was the right decision. But just as he relived this memory every night, he would continue to second guess himself over and over._

 _The soothing voice left him with a placating phrase, the hands along with it, taking with them the only connection he had to reality outside of the blackness. He begged them to stay, but already knew that they wouldn't be able to understand him, just as he could not understand them. They were worlds apart, the veil never to be broken. And so, once again, he was alone, with only his own voice to keep him company._

" _So… this is the way the world ends, huh? Not with a bang, but a whimper."_

 _In truth, there had been a bang. An earth-shattering explosion and an all-encompassing, blinding flash of light before darkness and silence swallowed him. If this was not the end, he was grateful at least that he would likely never see the real thing._

" _Don't be so dramatic."_

 _Words that at last he could understand. They were as much an anchor as the ground in that hollow world. He heard the muffled sounds of bootsteps pad their way over to him, felt his ears pop as the sonic landscape became sharper. The feet stopped by his head, now that he was aware he still had one. The voice spoke to him again, and he called out to the face of that disembodied specter he knew he would never see again._

" _Ferdinand," he tried to swallow, his throat parched and words lost on stiff lips that wouldn't bend to his whim. "What…" He couldn't even finish the question, but the memory answered anyway._

" _Take it easy. Don't try too hard to remember." His faceless friend intoned in a strained voice that said he too was not without damage. "We got separated. Early on. They swarmed all over us, and you… we thought we lost you."_

" _Well, looks like you found me." He tried to say, but it came out a garbled mess. Still, his friend chuckled. Though whether it was from what he said, or because of how pathetic he now looked, he would never know._

" _Here."_

 _He couldn't feel the plastic rim of the canteen placed against his lips, and so choked initially on the first cascade of lukewarm water that made it into his mouth. He sputtered and the waterfall backed off. He swallowed what had made it though, and when he found his breath again the liquid came back and he was prepared for it._

" _There was an explosion. A bomb, we think." The voice of his friend continued as he painfully swallowed the trickle moving down his throat. It prevented him from asking the obvious. "We saw it. The bomb, I mean. From the moment the bomber dropped it, we saw Its trajectory, saw it detonate." The flow of water stopped, and he could feel the shaking of the man's head as he stood back up, took his own swig from the canteen._

" _But that explosion…."_

 _He knew. He was there._

 _He remembered staring into the blank abyss, the blast like a tidal wave of light rushing over him. The searing heat which almost instantaneously became frostbite, then nothing. He was there at ground zero. It was only appropriate, after all. He was the one who caused it. The one that gave the go-ahead which had sealed all of their fates._

 _But how was he to know what would happen? Nothing that day had gone the way anyone had expected. Not even a way that any normal person could have imagined. The bomb was just another chalk mark on the board totaling their incompetence. It was supposed to be a conventional, albeit exceptionally powerful explosive. But what had resulted was unlike anything he had ever witnessed before, outside of old film reels taken from the Cold War._

" _Anyway," His friend sighed, and he sensed that he was looking off into the distant landscape, whatever there was left. "I suppose that all is well that ends well. We're alive, some others. And considering, I guess we should count ourselves lucky."_

 _But how? How was any of this supposed to be good fortune? This was not the glorious battle to the death that he envisioned their commander seeking when he had them jump out of their aircraft. This had been a catastrophe only reconciled with a total annihilation. And for what? Their own losses had been great, but for that sacrifice, had they saved any more than would have been spared otherwise? Had they in fact, made it worse?_

 _Even as the low rumble of helicopter blades, hundreds of them, swarmed on the edge of his comprehension, he could not imagine a better outcome. And yet, those muffled thrums sounded to him like kingdom come, and he could find no satisfaction in the life he had escaped with. Their victory, and his, were now undeniable. But what was victory?_

 _For what of the young man he had knowingly obliterated? What of that innocuous blond youth who had been fighting so desperately against a preternaturally malignant force? He had given the order to the aircraft pilot only in the moment of greatest desperation, when it seemed he had lost and there was no other choice. But wasn't the look in his eyes proof of that other choice? Had he not seen a sign that benevolence could confront that sort of insurmountable evil? Who was he, to doubt that?_

 _He had never been a dreamer. Nor a hero. He held his values like cards, playing them cautiously and never showing his true hand. But in a moment of the highest stakes he had gambled everything, including what was not his to wager. The end of the day might see him a winner. But he hadn't cashed in. He was still alive, still playing the game, soon to be dealt another hand._

" _Well, looks like the cavalry has finally arrived." His friend sounded just as weary as he did, taking no relief in the words he spoke even as he tried to imagine the scene playing out in his head, Ride of the Valkyries underscoring the triumphant arrival of their salvation. Life would go on, and there would only be new problems on the horizon. Every day would be an uncharted struggle from now on._

 _He was still numb, but felt the weight of the hand patting his shoulder solidly._

" _Rest easy, Michele. Looks like we're going home."_

* * *

It was surreal being here in this valley, so close to home. Ever since the discovery of the Elemental Nations had redrawn the map of the area, there continued to be a lingering doubt as to the veracity of any such charts. Lines and borders had become mere suggestions, and there was always that niggling feeling that there was something more beyond what was depicted on that lined and gridded sheet. Like those antique sailing charts which depicted sea monsters lurking in the uncharted waters past where mariners dared tread. Who was to say anymore that no such dangers lurked beneath the surface?

So it was with no small amount of skepticism that they entered into this mission. Out there on the western edge of the Wakhan Corridor, it was easy to imagine that they had the rebel armies on the ropes. Supposedly sandwiched as they were in the narrow valley cum nature preserve, that jerrymandered province that was a result of hundreds of years of contestation over a land that was owned by no one but the ones who lived in it.

And in a fit of irony, the last time the borders had been redrawn was to accommodate their homeland, wedged in to the impossible space between Tajikistan and China. No amount of fighting had managed to create much of a lasting impact in the last millennia, but the discovery of their otherwise tacit existence had created such a paradigm shift such that the world had never seen before. The only question now was what would become of it. Would this imbalance further plunge the known world into a state of unrest, or would a new era of discovery find ways to exist in harmony?

Naruto was determined for it to be the latter. In the wake of his pyric victory over the forces of Madara Uchiha, he had initially lost much of the hope and purpose that he once had. Being confronted with a drastically shifting world which was moving far too rapidly for him to come to terms with left him unable to reconcile the plausibility of his godfather's dream. It had seemed a daunting enough goal when confronting the combined task of the Elemental Nations, but in regard to a world now know to be many thousands of times larger, it was downright impossible.

At least, he had convinced himself of this at first. He might never know when he ceased to be the Naruto Uzumaki he once knew, and perhaps it had never been just a single moment but a gradual decline. But he had now managed to recognize this loss in, and of himself. And that was the first step on the road to recovery.

He felt a personal responsibility to see this mission through to its end. Now not only was it the shinobi presence among the rebel alliance, but a power amidst the Elemental Nations which was abetting the resistance. Whoever was conducting weapons through his former homeland would get their comeuppance, of that he was determined. He had worked too hard, sacrificed too much to allow his countrymen to sink back into their old underhanded ways. One way or another, the matter would come to an end in this valley.

"So, Uzumaki, how do you propose we do this?"

Naruto blinked as the question was asked of him by his commanding officer. Truth be, he had let his mind wander during the briefing, content to let those more versed in strategy hash out the details of their upcoming campaign. He was only there by virtue of his newly minted rank and expertise in the shinobi arts, which was anticipated to become more of an issue during the tactical scenarios.

But the multitude of eyes staring at him impatiently from across the command tent clearly demanded his input immediately, much to his surprise and unease.

"Um, me, sir?"

"Yes, I am fairly certain you are the only Uzumaki present." Belletriste said with a straight face, though his tone of voice like a ventriloquist was rolling a pair of eyes. "I do believe it is time for you to step up to your command, not to mention with new age comes new responsibility."

Again, he blinked confusedly stumbling through the logic of the statement. It took him a few seconds to parse out the second half, having long since lost tract of the days as anything but numbers like coordinates. He hadn't even realized that so long a time had passed, and he even had to double check his arithmetic to make sure he was interpreting this correctly.

His eighteenth birthday had arrived with him being none the wiser. While this was not much a cause for celebration in his own culture, he was still shocked that so much time had passed with him being unawares. He had wandered blindly into adulthood, and wondered absently if he was ready for such responsibilities. Then again, when he gained his headband six years ago, he was also entrusted with this status, and so it should have hardly made a difference. But he would have been blatantly lying if he said he was mature enough back then, either.

Now he was entrusted with the duties of adulthood afforded him by this society, and still he had his doubts as to whether or not he was ready. But now, like before, he apparently had little choice. He would have to step up to the plate and do his best, hoping that it was enough.

But for once his fear was assuaged by the trust he placed in his commanding officer and in himself. Even though his NCO was forcing him into an uncomfortable position, he doubted that he would abandon him alone to this task. And even if he were to do so, Naruto knew he had matured a good deal in the years following the final battle where he had nearly lost his life, and lost so much more which was precious to him. He knew just how much more he had left to lose.

Se he stepped up to the blown-up map laid out on the ubiquitously drab metal table, fixing his gaze on the finger of land a few hundred miles long and a third as wide, which possibly concealed anywhere between a few hundred and a few thousand insurgents, armed with the latest weaponry spirited to them by the Russians and his own people. It was sure to be a challenge, and at first he found himself at a loss as to where to begin other than the concentration of dots on far left which represented their forces.

But a firm hand on his shoulder reassured him that he was not alone in this uphill fight, and he glanced to his right to see the confident smirk of his commanding officer, proffering a crutch to his hobbled strategizing.

"Don't worry kid, after this is over we'll celebrate the right way, at the finest brothel a legionnaire's salary can buy."

The room shared a chuckle at that, knowing how pitiful the amount really was, as well as the sheer difficulty of finding such a facility in the strict country.

Naruto resisted the blush, for once conscious of his inexperience in such matters, despite spending the past year and a half bunked in close proximity with the opposite sex. And yet, at the same time, he felt oddly placated by the shallow reassurance. It was a guarantee, a promise. And despite the seeming impossibility of the task, it was inevitable that the legionnaires would manage to sniff one out.

And just as surely the hot-blooded males would find a way to slate this particular hunger, he would find a way to get them through this first challenge. And he would do so on his own terms. He may now be a legionnaire, an obedient soldier and the rest which it entailed. But he was also a shinobi, and his own person above that. The conversation he had with the trio from the former Village Hidden in the Sand a scant few days ago still resonated deeply with him, and he could no more betray their faith than he could his own.

He knew Temari's words to be truthful. Perhaps this was not the best way to do things. If more people understood what was going on, if knowledge could spread to become universal, there probably wouldn't be this confrontation of ideals. A working solution could be found. But that was something that would simply have to follow what had to come now. Each side was invested in their methodology, and the two were mutually exclusive, or so they had been told.

Either way, he was committed, and once again sure of his integrity. He was being given a chance to direct the upcoming battle in the manner that best satiated his sense of righteousness. And he was not about to squander that opportunity. He was going to bring about peace as he had so many times before, and would for as long as it would take.

* * *

"This had better work…"

Naruto mumbled to himself, aware enough not to smudge the rest of drying ink of the complex glyph that occupied both his attention and the majority of the helicopter's side door. But not quite aware enough to pay attention to the rest of the goings on inside the expediently constructed hangar.

"I thought that was supposed to be my line."

The voice echoed mirthfully behind him, causing Naruto to frown as his brush went slightly astray, leaving his character with an extra tail which he very quickly had to wipe off before it dried and completely changed the nature of the seal array he was trying to achieve.

"Careful there." He could feel the levity in the voice, clearly as pleased with the whole setup as if it had been his idea to begin with. Which, to be fair, it might have been. Though that might have been giving too much credit to his commander's ability to strategize. He threw the rag now with yet another spot staining its off-white surface over his shoulder and removed the brush he had stashed in his mouth so that he could retort.

"You know, you're not helping by sneaking up on me." Continuing where he had left off, Naruto's brush deliberately pulled back from his completed, impromptu canvas. Standing back himself so that he could admire his work, he felt the modicum of pride he had garnered from the intricate seal's completion leave him like the breath from his lips as he gazed upon the rest of the squadron lined up in front of him he still had left to do.

His commanding officer scoffed at the very thought that someone like him could sneak up on a trained ninja, but halted any retort behind a sip from his mug. Hearing Naruto sigh in exasperation at the monumental task he still had before him, he allowed a little empathy to bleed into his otherwise jovial mood.

"Well, there's not much else I can do." He spoke with just a hint of bitterness which dissolved the next second. "This **is** your plan after all."

He wouldn't forget that. Apart from a few of the details regarding coordination, Naruto had been more or less given free rein in the planning and execution of the current mission. The task he had set himself now was all his own doing, and in no way counted towards any favors owed to him by the career soldier. In fact, given the expediency with which he had managed to procure the resources and get a greenlight on their course of action, he wondered just how deep in debt he really was with the non-com.

Still, it would have been nice to have his clones to do some of this work for him.

"Here, I brought you a present." Showing that he had not merely stopped by to annoy the blond, Belletriste turned back to the cart he had been porting and wheeled the heavy load up in between them. Naruto blinked curiously as he stared at the three innocuous wooden crates now in front of him, setting his brush down in an ammo can now full of tepid and muddied water on the stool behind him. Belletriste set down his own mug on one of the further crates, quickly undoing the latches on the one adjacent to Naruto and setting aside the battered lid.

They both looked on at the unassuming contents. Unassuming, if one didn't know what it was. While it would have been a complete mystery a few months ago for the blond, it was in fact exactly what the ex-shinobi had ordered.

"Do I even want to know how you got these?" Naruto questioned with a raised eyebrow, wiping his sweating brown with the dirtied rag over his shoulder.

"I asked of course." It was just a matter of who he had to ask. By now, Naruto had already learned to expect the stupid answer to the question he knew was equally dumb the moment it left his lips, and he let it slide off his sweaty shoulders. He was more annoyed that the smaller man didn't seem to mind the stifling air in the corrugated metal building.

"So," Belletriste became began seriously. "You are sure you will have enough time to do this?"

Naruto looked up from the crate's occupant to nod to the man, equally stoic. It would be a tight thing to be sure, but he had to. It was the only way he could think of to minimize casualties on both sides. He did not begrudge the man his doubt. Although, it did not go outside of his notice that he had merely questioned his ability to do so within the given time frame. He had not questioned Naruto's competence in making the seals actually work. It was comforting, and admittedly more than a little disturbing to be the recipient of such abject faith from the man who was supposed to have all the answers.

"Yes. I know I can." Naruto vocalized his assurance, as much for himself as for his commanding officer. "How many were you able to get?"

Belletriste returned his confidence with a knowing smile before setting the lid back down over the object and grabbing his enamel coffee mug. "There are three pallets, each with three missiles."

"Nine of them?" Naruto started reflexively, blinking as he daubed off his recovered paintbrush.

"You were expecting more of them?" Belletriste questioned. "It was hard enough to get just this many. These are prototypes, after all." He supplied with a hint of justifiable indignation.

Naruto shook his head slowly, chuckling lowly to himself and at the petulance in the remark made by his commander. "No, no, nine is plenty. It's just…." Naruto shrugged. "A coincidence, I guess. Maybe kind of a troubling one, if I stop to think about it."

"Ah," The spectacled man uttered with a light of comprehension, adjusting his glasses absently. "You mean the fox, then." It wasn't a question, but Naruto nodded anyway. Belletriste shrugged dismissively, seemingly more interested in the lingering grounds swirling around in his mug.

"People will look for meaning in patterns. Numbers are easy to identify, but also easy to obscure." He smiled to himself, clearly finding more personal meaning in that bit of advice. "There were nine tailed beasts. You were the container of the Nine-Tails." Naruto almost flinched, still not used to the man being so straightforward with information regarding shinobi and himself in particular. "But, they were each an incomplete part of the Ten-Tails, the Juubi." This time, Naruto did react involuntarily, his paintbrush clattering down on the perforated steel landing mats.

"It's actually a bit of funny mathematics, that. Nine beasts, with increasing magnitudes of tails. That's 45 tails total. Goes to show that the physical world is a little more complicated than we'd like it to be, no?"

"How do you know about that?" Naruto questioned, ignoring the previous pontification. He himself had only learned about the Ten-tails in the last moments during his fight with Madara, and it was one of the few conciliations he had about the loss of the fox and his brethren. At the very least, with them gone, for however long that might be, they wouldn't have to worry about Kaguya reappearing any time soon. But if word were to get out into the general public, there would be greater panic than any of them had ever seen to date.

"History," Belletriste stared down his subordinate, unflinching under the withering gaze Naruto was sending him. Even without the Kyuubi adding his bloodlust, it should have been enough to bring the man to his knees. But Naruto was even more disturbed to see his efforts being patently ignored and the man continued unabated. "Is written by the victors."

"So, what, you're saying you read it in a book?" Naruto growled out, taking a menacing half-step towards the man, despite the volatile objects in between them. He wasn't ready to accept such a blasé answer this time.

But Belletriste was not willing to accept this kind of insubordination at such a critical moment, either.

"Maybe I did. So what?" He snapped back. "Knowledge has, and will forever be equated with power. You cannot tell me that knowing what you do now, you may not have done things differently. You cannot fault me for wanting to know what I was getting into."

Of course he had to concede that point. But just because he had to admit its veracity, did not mean that was the way he had to live. He had been raised, schooled himself to learn how to trust people, and it was only through the harsh lessons that life taught that he learned how to be wary. And right now, his experience told him that the fewer people knew of the potential danger which lurked out there, the better. So while he wanted to trust this man to the oaths that they both swore, he knew he should not.

"Maybe some things are better left unknown." Naruto grumbled out under his breath. Thoughts drifting to how such knowledge pertained to his own life experience. Things probably would have been a lot simpler had he never known about the fox, never known about his parents, had the shinobi world at large remained ignorant of the world it inhabited.

But by the same token, perhaps not. Akatsuki would have still tracked him down, and he would have spent his whole life not knowing why he was so ostracized. He never would have experienced the pride, nor admittedly the burden of being the son of the Fourth Hokage. And maybe they would have won the final battle with Madara without the outside aid, anyway. But then again, maybe not. And was he not now richer for the experience? Even those forced by necessity from their homelands had had the world opened up to them, and new possibilities presented. Not all of them better, or even desirable, but options that were never there before.

He thought he was speaking only to himself, but to his surprise, his commanding officer apparently heard this self-utterance.

"I don't believe that." Despite the resolution in his voice, his face softened slightly, as if realizing his hypocrisy in that matter. "We are always better off for knowing. Even if it is to realize we make a mistake, it is better that we know so we can do better in the future. Innocence is a world devoid of knowledge. A world of right and wrong, of black and white. But I prefer one in which even the darkest of corners have some light."

The fists that he hadn't realized he raised fell to his side as his hands unclenched, the charred ashes of the rag falling like sooty snowflakes to the ground at his feet. He still was not willing to relinquish his guard, but this was clearly a side of his commanding officer he had never seen, and doubted had been shown at all for some time. And just as soon it was gone, but as he suggested, Naruto was happy to have seen it, and have his trust in the inherent goodness of people reaffirmed, at least for a moment.

"The truth always goes far deeper than just what is on the cover. That stands for both your world, mine, and now, ours." He jabbed a finger at black tome which rested on Naruto's stool besides the ammo can. The same book he had handed him months earlier, which he had read cover to cover multiple times, and had filled out in the course of his learning. His annotations spilling from margins and notes shoved inside the cover, bulging, threatening to spill onto the floor.

"That book, which contains the combined total of the world's sealing knowledge is the ultimate example. Your fuinjutsu can control the reality we live in, for better or worse. It defines history and reality consecutively. I hope you realize the power of the tool you have, Uzumaki."

He did. Now. He also understood that despite his secretive nature, the man was putting his faith in him to use it properly based solely on his character, and not any explicit promises he had made.

"I also hope you realize the magnitude of the task ahead of you." He looked to his left and Naruto followed his gaze. Many of their comrades and subordinates were already there, already in motion to and froe prepping everything else for their urgent task ahead. They were a well-oiled machine, but had not become so overnight. It had taken months of dedication and trust to get to where they were right then, and many mistakes along the way.

"It is inevitable that this mission will go down in the history books." Naruto looked back to see his wistful gaze as he continued to look upon the same teammates as him. Were his thoughts the same? Did he also desperately want to see them all come back? "Just like the last Shinobi War, just like the first." He whipped back to face Naruto once again, but this time was unable to keep his gaze. He averted his eyes and turned around, slowly walking away.

"It's up to you, Naruto, to determine what is written. Good luck, and God Speed."

Naruto watched him go, all the while trying to figure out what the man had not wanted him to see etched on his shadowed face. All men were afraid of being seen as vulnerable. But in that instant that he turned around, Naruto's gaze had been fixated on his team, his comrades, his friends. His singular thought revolving around them assured their protection at all costs. It was his unyielding conviction that he was unable to bear witness, and the only thing he wished to hide was his own guilt that he could not believe in so lofty a goal.

He would simply have to make him believe it was possible. He was Naruto Uzumaki, and he would always get back up to rise again. He would continue to take impossible tasks head on, and come out victorious.

And even if his commander did not believe that fact himself, he wanted to believe. He had granted him God Speed, a familiar turn of phrase, but one that applied to Naruto most assuredly.

Naruto turned back to his work with a skip in his step, heart and hand just a little bit lighter despite the grave circumstances. And as he began the second set of seals on the next aircraft with a combined flourish of precise and fluvial motion, he let his shit-eating grin overcome his face without having to go against the tide. If they could succeed in their endeavor, he would have secured his place in history not only as a superior seal master than his father and his godfather, he would have achieved his fame not for the amount of lives he took, but for those he spared.

* * *

"Need a hand with that?"

Naruto glanced up from his work, brush poised over the considerably smaller canvas he was now working on to see the familiar smirk chiseled on the dark, handsome face looming above him.

"Not sure what much you can do," He smiled apologetically as he returned to his tattooing of the explosive device carefully suspended between two of the crates to allow him access to its entire length. "I appreciate the offer though, Karui. But this is something that I have just developed, and I'm not even sure myself it it's going to work." He finished the character he was working on, closing the loop and actuating the scientific magic contained within before recapturing the woman's gaze. He didn't need to tell her that he wanted to be the one responsible, in the case that it didn't.

The redhead only answered him with a scoff.

"Quit being so full of yourself, Uzumaki. I know enough to tell a modified lightning seal when I see one." She was, after all, from Cloud. And even though there was something very clearly different about the pattern being incised on the skin of the missile, it was an obvious derivative that she would have little trouble following. "And I can sure as hell copy it."

He shook off his surprise easily enough with a soft smile of his own as he straightened from his crouch with a surprising amount of effort. He had been at this task for far too long, it seemed, and was sorely tempted to take her up on her offer. However…

"Thanks. Really. I appreciate the offer, and it's not like I don't trust you to be able to do it, it's just-"

"It's just that you have an irritating habit of trying to take the burdens of the world on your shoulders." She finished for him, her smirk crumbling away despite anticipating her fellow soldier's stubborn personality. He was about to protest what he viewed as an unfair summation when she cut him off once again, unsure if she would be able to retain her own resolve if forced to listen to his persuasive words.

"You've got to stop trying to be a martyr, Naruto." She folded her arms and glared down at the younger man with bags underneath his dulled azure eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, you don't owe it to anyone to keep killing yourself trying to save the world. No one expects you to do that." Maybe, at one time, that would have been the case. She was willing to follow him to hell and back, along with just about everyone else she knew because of the certainty that he alone could change the world. But things were different, and it was not because of any fault he had developed in the past few years. It was just the way things turned out.

Naruto didn't take it that way, though. Having had a history of being underestimated, he wanted to take offense at her doubt, despite the fact that he should have known his friend and comrade better by now. Such ingrained habits made during formative years were hard to break, however.

"I've been given command of this operation." He replied solemnly, staring down at his beginning sketches. He still had so far to go. "That means that I am responsible for all of you. And I need to make sure that you all come back alive." He would. And he would make sure that as many of the opposition came back as he possibly could as well. He may not yet have fully understood himself, but he comprehended the cycle of hatred that his master had instilled in him so long ago. Hopelessness in the face of insurmountable odds was not an excuse.

"Bullshit." Karui spat at him and he flinched up to meet her stony expression. "You may be the ranking soldier here, but even in this so called 'brotherhood' it's up to each one of us individually to take care of ourselves." Her gaze actually did soften then, and a rare side of the kunochi that he had seen only a handful of other times was illuminated in the monochromatic light. "You're not always going to be there to protect each and every one of us. Someday, we'll be gone. Someday you'll be gone. And we are all going to have to learn how to cope on our own."

This was ironically something that he had been dreading. He thrived on the reliance that others placed in him, but knew that it could not last. He had to teach the way of peace, and not try to force it on others. It was here that he had been lead astray for so long. It was easier simply to become yet another cog in the system and be told that what they were doing was for the best. Let the responsibility of leadership and inspiration fall to someone else. Now that he wanted to redon that mantle of responsibility, he was once again vulnerable to the fear of rejection.

"Tenten and I, we've both put in a transfer request." He barely heard her in his internal harangue, though her whisper seemed to fill the otherwise silent hangar. "After this mission, we've put in to be transferred to the 3eme REI (1)." Naruto felt his heart drop at this declaration. Soon two more of his friends would be an ocean away-farther even than his homelands.

"It's not a bad thing." Anticipating his reaction, Karui had already skirted around his workspace and closed the distance between them, placing a hand tenderly on his shoulder. Though he still did not dare meet her gaze, for fear that he had done something wrong to result in her flight. "Look at me, baka." She insisted with a squeeze of his shoulder, and he hesitantly responded to the pejorative, rising to meet her un-accusing expression.

"It's not a bad thing." She repeated. "The Legion was a temporary thing at best. And we've learned from it." She sighed and took a seat on one of the (hopefully) empty crates, gently forcing him to sit next to her. He had been working non-stop for the past 24 hours trying to get everything done in time for their next mission, not even pausing to take food and water, which had to be forced upon him in his trance-like state centered around his masterpieces.

"We left the elemental nations because we didn't have anything to offer them. We didn't belong, then, in the peace that you helped bring about." She spoke now for herself and her fellow shinobi, on both sides of the conflict. She was not ignorant to the fact that most of them were not the bloodthirsty killers that they were portrayed to be by the outside powers, framing them as inhuman boogeymen to inspire a new wave of anti-terrorist sentiment.

"We didn't have any other skills other than fighting. But thanks to the Legion, ironically enough, now we do." In the course of their service they had been trained in all manner of things, all with the emphasis on causing violence and destruction. But that was not to say that some of those skills could not be used to effect change for the good outside of the armed forces. Nobel had been lauded for his invention of dynamite. It was not inconceivable that in the field of modern combat that some skills imparted to them would have auxiliary uses.

"We're ready to move on. Do something else with our lives. See the world, and all that jazz." She said the last bit regaining her smirk with just a wee bit more playfulness as she knew that her next deployment would be anything but relaxing on tropical beaches. But it was something new, and she was ready for change. And after that no one knew what was in store.

"And we can do that, now, thanks to you." He had been the one to pave the way. Even if everything still wasn't perfect, even if their homeland did once again devolve into its history of internal squabbles, he had accomplished something never before conceived of. Who was to say that the untimely arrival of outside forces had hindered or helped this endeavor? Regardless it had become so, and he had then gone on to lead their listless and wayward populations away from where they could have jeopardized this. Sure it was probably not his intention to do so, but history would probably write it that way.

Though it was obvious he could not come to terms with this reality, blinded as he was by duty. Though he was in no way stupid, he was too prone to self-doubt and willful ignorance to do otherwise. He just needed someone to speak these words to him. At least, that was what she hoped.

But it did not seem like she had managed to convince him. If anything, he seemed even more mired in self-pity and hopelessness, focusing only on his inability to rise to godliness and instill contentment in everyone whose life he graced. She was annoyed, both with his obstinacy and her own failure to convey what she knew he needed to hear, when another voice broke into the private conversation.

"Yeah, perk up, blondie!" The two hadn't even realized the other kunochi making her way over to the two them in the darkly lit space, engrossed as they were with the profound nature of the conversation they were trying to have. Naruto nearly lost his grip on his slender brush as Tenten's hand landed roughly on top of his un-shaven head, and ruffled his already unruly locks, flecked with paint and matted with sweat from the metal greenhouse, only now becoming livable after dark.

She neglected taking her own seat, preferring to loom over and antagonize her friend, and for the moment ignore his superiority as both a fighter and command. It was also tactful, to illustrate the continued disparity between their heights and reinforce his fallibility.

Although Naruto was in no mood to be reminded of that, wound up as he was in the severity the next morning would bring, and growing continuously more irritated at being delayed from his work.

"Knock it off!" He shouted, a little too loudly. The two quickly desisted with their horsing around as his harsh command echoed throughoutt the steel building. "As your superior I order you to let me to my work." He stated coolly, standing up and turning back to face the two of them. They both withered slightly under his unusually stern gaze before glancing at one another.

"No."

He blinked, wondering if his fatigue was causing him to lose his touch, or rather, touch with reality.

"No?" He asked, almost afraid to hear the rebuttal.

"No." They both confirmed, nodding again to one another. "You may be our commander in the situation. Hell, everyone here knows that you could wipe the floor with the entire army single-handedly. But we refuse, not because we don't respect you, but because we do. You need to hear this, Naruto. You need to listen and understand. You're not a god. It's no shame to rely on others."

He failed to find the will to contest them. Outside of the heat of combat, he could no more order his friends around than he could ask them to give up doing what they loved. Perhaps he would not have made a good Kage after all. But could he really be faulted for his compassion, his desire to protect everyone he could? He was weary, as well. Tired, not just physically, but from the months on end of continued combat. Part of him longed to just quit, to lay down and let the war that others had started be finished by those same people. And it was this part of himself that he was so afraid of. It was not enough to leave the problems of the world for others. Not when he could do something.

So still, he wanted to protest, but yet another voice prevented him from forming his reluctant argument.

"You should know better by now, man. Can't argue with women."

He turned and was greeted by the pearly-white smile of one of the few 'normal' soldiers to stick with his unit from beginning to end. Conrad had against all odds kept pace with the superhumans which flooded their ranks, attesting himself to be invaluable with his gift of tongues and proving even more resilient than the behemoth Belgian, who had been transferred out not soon after their first tumultuous trial by fire.

"They're right too." He shrugged, never letting go of his grin which was a little disturbing in the crimson glow. "For once." That qualification brought upon him a pair of scathing looks, thankfully buffered by the dizzy blond in between.

"You need to take a break." The man's meaty hand enveloped Naruto's shoulder, and he found himself slightly off-balance at the contact, his fatigue being even more prevalent than he first surmised. "You need to stop trying to take everything on yourself." His smile drooped as he became incongruously serious. "You need to leave things to others. That's the point of being here. That's the point of being human."

They were social animals to the core. That was how they developed to such complexities, rose to such heights as to grace the stars. Not as individuals, but as herds, groups both tightly knit and with internal turbulence. But ones that still managed to work together and succeed where only failure came before. Everyone was responsible for humanity, it was not represented by the sole good or bad intentions of a single person.

He had forgotten that. He had been so strong before that he ceased to need others in his struggles. And then he had been reduced, banished to being 'normal' once again. And it so grated him that he had sequestered himself in his effort to gain strength. In doing so, he had satisfied his superiors, as well as himself. But the latter was a fleeting feeling, and one that he knew deep down he would never be able to sustain.

He had forgotten that he was just another human, out of this world of 7 billion others. He could do what he must, but not more than what was possible. It was not wrong to strive to do so, but he had been punishing himself none the less for his failures even still.

"You guys…"

As he stared at the three individuals encircling him, steadying him with both their strength and their spirits, he became aware of movement in the darkness beyond. Dozens more bodies were quietly making their way to their congregation, and as they entered into the dim, red light surrounding him, he found he knew each and every one. They had been the faces he had fought alongside for months now, and seemingly all his adult life. They had been the ones he had rescued from despair and in turn were now rescuing him from embarking on his personal trek to the hill of Cavalry.

He had tried to become the alpha and the omega, in part to please his commander who had seemingly imparted his impossible expectations unto him. And partially for himself, to regain the power and the prominence that he had lost.

But he hadn't lost it. He had never ceased being an inspiration to others. He had always, and would continue to be an agent of change. The most potent one, convincing others and spreading his ideals like an addiction so that one day with any luck everyone could have a taste of peace, love, and most importantly: hope.

"Alright then," He acknowledged with a nod of his head, weariness fleeing temporarily amidst the radiant energy of the others. He turned back to his work, nearly complete.

"Let's finish this."

* * *

It was easy looking from the darkness into the center of the room. The short man being all the more hidden himself, pressed up against the central supporting beam and leaning against the now cool corrugated metal walls. He rubbed his thumb against his index finger unconsciously, wishing there was a mug in between them. But even then, he might not have sipped from it, all too content as he was to remain silent and observe.

He took his glasses off with a muted sigh, the world being shrouded in almost total blackness without them. Only the barest hint of light made it through to his mangled eyes, lumpy with scarred tissue and tech lying just beneath the glassy surface. The scars that it hid now tingled incessantly. He blindly fingered the reinforced plastic, finding instinctively the tiny but intricate mark that channeled the chakra to make them work. He too was tired. Perhaps it would soon be time to retire.

The future seemed to be in good hands, at last, and he could finally let all the ghosts of his past rest.

* * *

" _Naruto."_

 _He opened his eyes, unsure of when he had shut them. Unsure of how he had gotten to where he now was, lying down in an open field, too weary to turn his head._

 _Or perhaps unwilling, as the softly smiling face of his crush loomed over him, framed by the pink bangs which haloed around her face, making her all the more beautiful despite the smudges and scrapes which marred her features. Staring at him in abject joy._

" _Hey." He tried to get out, but the words caught in his throat. He didn't even have the energy to cough, much less keep his eyes open. But he did, all the same._

" _I'm so glad you're alive."_

 _She was. He could see the unshed tears welling up in the corners of her eyes reflecting the crimson rays of the dying sun. But for the life of him, he could not remember why he should be in such a position. It was like when one woke into a dream, in total conscience of what was going on, but with no conception of how one got there._

" _I thought….we all thought we had lost you." She began, and as if realizing that he had no idea what she was talking about, elaborated. "You were fighting Madara, and then these people arrived from nowhere. Well, from the sky."_

 _People from the sky? He certainly didn't remember anything about that. But the prodigal Uchiha certainly rang some bells, and little by little his most recent fight came back in gory but disjointed detail. He was still unaware of its conclusion._

" _And then, there was this…bird." She shook her head, clearly unsatisfied with the description, or else realizing that he was still in abject pain, and she began going about the healing process. A testament to her skills, managing to hold a conversation while simultaneously administering medical jutsu. "No, it was just shaped like a bird, but it was the same sort of thing those people arrived in." She glanced off to the side, perhaps because of someone approaching, or perhaps because she was within sight of one of the aforementioned people. Naruto could not turn his head, so did not know._

" _Anyway, this… craft," she finally settled on "dropped something." Her relieved smile turned into a frown. "I think it was a bomb."_

 _He listened, but was unsure of what to make of the statement. He was totally ignorant of what she was describing, which was not too much of a surprise, given how engrossed he was with his own trial. But what she was describing seemed to touch a chord within his buried conscious. Part of him was making connections, even if he did not realize it._

" _There was a huge concussive explosion." She continued, justifying her case. But he still could not put any images to the words that sounded familiar. "And then, there was another explosion." She stopped healing him, much to his disappointment, and shook her head. Clearly she too was having trouble coming to terms with things, because when remembering what had happened, she could not divide her attention at all._

" _It wasn't just an explosion. It was a release of chakra." He saw her shudder and felt a chill of his own run down his immobile spine. "It washed over all of us. It was all light. And then, there was nothing. Like someone…"_

 _He already knew what she was going to say, and if he could would have begged her to spare him its repetition. The memories came shooting back into his beleaguered mind in rapid fire, straining his ability to remain conscious. And if he could, he would have cried out in pain and desperation._

" _As if someone just snuffed out all the tailed beasts all at once."_

 _And there it was. There was his death staring him in the face. There was the Kyuubi, Kurama, his friend, accompanying him to the afterlife along with the rest of the Bijuu. The world as he knew it fading away along with reality itself. And then, he was slingshot back again at many times the speed of light. Disoriented, disjointed, and disturbed beyond all comprehension. And he could only feel as a single point might in a two-dimensional universe, as everything he worked so hard to achieve was getting farther and farther away._

 _But he was alive. And though he could not relish in that fact at the moment, it was at the behest of all the tailed beasts, and he would do whatever he could to honor their sacrifice._

 _But for now, he was as helpless as a newborn. Less so, even, as he could not even cry to release the pain he felt throughout his entire body. And just as he was lamenting the loss of his strangest and closest friends, his childhood paramour and companion left him as well, professing the need to see to other patients._

 _It might have been true, but he wondered if she could see the pain swirling in eddies within his azure eyes, brimming with tears that he could not conjure up._

 _He waited there for what seemed like another eternity. Slowly but surely things came back to him. He felt the IV drip first. The tiny needle none the less like a dagger in his arm. Then everything else. And through the blinding pain, both physical and mental, he began to regain movement, looking around to discover that he was no alone after all. He was another number in a group, a line, a matrix of cots stacked next to one another like sardines. All silently in states of disrepair._

 _There were so many._

 _But there was no one to his left. He was the last in the row, in the field of casualties that would take days to sort out. Until, that is, another was dropped off. He, like all the rest, looked far worse than Naruto imagined himself to be. The physical damage deranging his features into a parody of a human face, burns exfoliated flesh so that what was left was little more than a skeleton. But even still, he knew that he did not know this man. Given the sheer number that he knew there to be, it was little surprise._

" _Hey." He tried to call out. But either he didn't make a sound, or the person didn't hear him._

 _He saw a pair of boots attached to legs which walked gently up to the person next to him. Saw the stranger bend down and offer the invalid a sip of water, which he was awkwardly able to accept after a while. Even if he couldn't hear their words, he would have known them to be foreigners. The mobile one was unmarred enough to see that, and his blond hair and blue eyes, while so similar to his own, were made strange by the man's square jaw and ridged brow._

 _The two talked, surprisingly the near-corpse on the ground was capable of such an act, which Naruto thought was a tad unfair. But seeing the state the man was in, and knowing his own innate healing ability, he was not envious. They talked until there came a noise. Something so deep that it started off more as a feeling in his chest, until his ears recognized it as sound. But it was still unlike anything he had ever heard before._

 _The closest thing he could think was of crickets the size of ox-carts. That was before he could even see them on the horizon. For a while, while they were still a speckled blur in the evening light, he was amused thinking he was correct, and was unconcerned by their implications. It would only be later, as they passed overhead so close that he could see the passengers they bore aloft, and feel the bubble of air they rode on, that he would find himself in equality of worry and amazement._

 _But as they were now, still so far away, his attention was focused on his neighbor. He too was not watching their approach, but seemed to be aware of it none the less. His head had fallen to its right so that he was staring right at Naruto. Feeling the gaze, Naruto turned to meet him. It was difficult to ignore the grotesque image that surrounded that gaze, though. And was perhaps no easier to meet it. The eyes which held his own were so shredded as to be near unrecognizable. He wondered if the man could even see, and would not even dare to guess as to the original eye color._

 _Even if he were blind, though, he seemed to know Naruto was there. He was somehow made aware of his presence, of the steady rhythm of his shallow breath above the now cacophonous drone beginning to surround them. Naruto did not look away, did not flinch as the non-existent lips formed non-words which sought out his ears._

 _He tried, once again, to form his own. To give a name to give something to the person desperately seeking not to be alone in this dark and strange world. He faltered at first. Tried again. Failed again. Unsure why he was even bothering, knowing that he probably wouldn't be understood anyway, he was still never one to give up._

" _Hey." It came out more like a grunt than anything else, but the guttural sound still seemed to relax what muscle remained in the charred face. He offered his own back, and Naruto imagined himself smiling._

" _Namae-wa, Uzumaki-Naruto desu." Though he was unsure of how much other than his name he managed to get out. He still was not sure what he expected from the other, separated by mere inches, in addition to the world between. Although, the other man began to parrot his words, searching for the meaning none the less._

" _Namae? Namae, namae, name, name…" His words became mangled and drifted off, and after a few beats, Naruto lost hope of getting an intelligible answer._

" _Name:" He came out with finalitly, catching the blond drifting off to sleep._

" _Belletriste. Michelle Belletriste._

* * *

1\. The 3eme French Foreign Legion Infantry Regiment (Regiment Etrangere d'Infanterie) is permanently stationed in French Guiana, in Central America. There they undergo intense jungle training in which death by disease is a common occurrence. It is their primary duty to guard the European Union's only independent space port, an important symbol of independence for the nations of Western Europe who would otherwise have to rely on countries within Russian influence, or the United States.

* * *

 **This took way longer than expected to get out, and as such might be kind of disjointed due to the long interval between working on it. I finally found both time and inspiration again, and wanted to polish this story off so I could revive my Naruto X RWBY story, which, some of you will be happy to know, has already seen its first strokes.**

 **Anyway, not a whole lot of action in this one, but that should be rectified in the next chapter. Rest assured that I am not abandoning any of my stories (for the three of you who probably care). But that being said, I do have school now, and this year is going to be a doozy.**

 **Right then, I'm off.**


	9. For Better For Worse

**See? Not dead.**

 **I was just working on some other stuff, mainly my RWBY crossover, and so this got put on hold. Basically I just purged this idea out of myself mostly until I was dry heaving, and then worked on binging the other stuff. Now that I have managed to think about this chapter a little bit, I have finally endeavored to type it up.**

 **And it's a doozy. Just to warn you. And Also, just to say, we are getting pretty close to the end here. I never intended for this to be a long foray, so if this seems long, its only because its taking the place of several other chapters of 'normal' stories. One thing I think anyone will say, my stories aren't what you call normal.**

 **Anyway, see you on the other side. A demain.**

* * *

He was a dream. He was a ghost, invisible and light in the thin mountain air. Deaf. Blind. Numb.

Did the others feel this way? Or were they all too focused on the battle ahead? Did any of them have time to contemplate what they had gotten themselves into, or was that burden left to him alone when they placed their faith in his hands?

He couldn't ask them. Com channels were reserved for emergencies. They were invisible in all other ways, and didn't want to be given away by stray chatter. And bsides, nothing else could be heard above the deafening whoop of the rotor blades.

He didn't need to ask them or course. They had already knowingly pledged their lives to his cause. This time spent traveling in the near pitch-black predawn was reserved for rest, and prayers.

But he was too wound up to sleep, and didn't have any gods left to pray to. So he thought about the others in their prayers. How many were beseeching the god of death to pass them over this time? How many were silently fingering rosaries in comforting repetition? How many down below were staggering out of bed and laying out their rugs for the first surah of the day? How many would get to meet their gods by day's end?

It was his job to make sure that number was as few as possible. Surprise was key to this, and so far they had that. The unavoidably noisy helicopters they were riding in would be heard soon enough, but by the time their enemies figured out where they were coming from, it would be too late. Then came the second crux of his hastily thrown together plan. Overwhelming force. And that's where he came in.

A series of three beeps in his headset made him glance down at his watch, the tritium hands glowing softly as they snapped into position. It was time.

He placed the helmet over his head, careful to clip it in over the headset before sliding the goggles down over his eyes. Now that he was sealed in, the invincible feeling was complete. With all the armor and equipment piled on top of him, he felt bigger than his lithe 18-year-old frame decried. Stronger, too, for though he nearly doubled his body weight, he still felt as light as a feather. It was an illusion he knew well. There wasn't such a thing as bulletproof. Neither in body, nor in plans.

He glanced around in the tinted light to see others doing the same, or if already done, checking their weapons unnecessarily. It was just repetitious comfort. Tactile distraction. Drilled into them, much as the plans for this mission, so that they could do without thinking.

What would it be like once this was all over? Would they manage to override those Pavlovian responses and rewrite themselves back into society? A society which had changed in their absence, **would** change in their actions right here, right now.

First though, they had to survive.

Not only survive, but win.

He felt the whole craft shift suddenly as they broke formation, smoothly entering a tight loop that banished blood to the toes. He could see the others hastily finding handholds on the bulkhead, though they were so tied into the momentum of the craft that it hardly mattered. He had stuck himself down with chakra as a precaution in case he fell asleep. But as it was, they were riding the metal bird like a surfboard.

They became weightless as the chopper went into a nosedive. He though he heard a whoop of excitement echo through the headsets as they descended on this roller-coaster-like ride. Silence didn't matter anymore. Everyone on the ground already knew they were coming. They were counting on it.

Just as his weight returned to his feet with the helicopter pulling out of its quick descent, he threw back the sliding door which kept them sealed in from the frigid pre-dawn and gazed out onto the glacial valley.

A sea of grass sped by under his feet as he leaned out, xenoliths jutting up here and there like obstinate watchtowers keeping guard over this untouched land. This land had been home to only a handful of humans since the last ice age, and it still reeked of prehistoric musk.

But now there was other life down on those plains. Bodies like ants spewed forth from the Earth and crisscrossed the ground, dark speckles swimming from boulder to boulder in a tizzy. Looking anxiously for the sight of Valkyries' wings which woke them their slumber. Looking to the sky, for them.

They wouldn't have to wait long. There was the briefest flash of golden light as the sun peaked over the far mountains to the East, and for the first time the young man could see his handiwork in all its glory.

Sure, it was far from perfect. He had based it off of Jiraya's notes which had been more scribbles than anything else. He had managed to apply them to something several hundred times the mass of a human, so it was bound to have its faults. They were emphasized now with the sun's rays shooting straight at them, the chameleon surface refracting light down its length and lighting them up like a disco ball.

It must have looked like a falling star to those on the ground. It must have scared them shitless.

But it had worked until now. Kept them hidden in the blue-black sky from even the sharpest of optics and eyes. And now, they wanted to be known.

He smiled to himself behind the checkered shamagh as he leapt from the moving vehicle. It was still going too fast for most people to land without breaking anything. But they were not most people. They were shinobi, and legionnaires. And between the two, they were durable and crazy enough to try anything.

"Geronimo!"

He swore that most of the valley had heard his cry as he descended feet-first to the ground. The man directly underneath him surely did, as seconds before he made impact, he looked up in frightened disbelief and dropped his weapon along with his jaw. He didn't even try to run.

Five tons of arms and armor crumpled the adult male body underneath like an aluminum can. (1)

He rolled out of the landing, himself no worse for the wear, rifle already up and trained on the darkly silhouetted forms against the horizon. He squeezed a long burst off at a group of them caught in the open. They went down in consecutive order as the muzzle of his rifle jerked down and to the right. So far no one had managed to even bring their weapons to bear on him, too stunned with his arrival.

He took advantage of their fearful paralysis and took his time lining up the next shot. The man under the red dot of his scope jerked and fumbled with his rifle, trying and failing to get it up in time. He went down with but a twitch of the finger. Another movement, another measured pull, another body disappearing into the grass.

By then the other insurgents had been roused from their stupor and began to unload their arsenal on him willy-nilly. Their weapons were top of the line. These people were anything but. Not one shot among the fusillade of fire managed to even get close to him as he finished emptying his own magazine downrange.

He didn't pause to check his score. He dropped the empty magazine from its housing and slipping in another before the first hit the ground, and still before any of them could garner enough courage to actually aim at him. He ducked behind a nearby boulder as the stray shots nipped at his feet.

He paused and closed his eyes, listening to the first chorus of combat behind his granitic shelter. The bullets pinging off the impenetrable rock, the insensible shouts of anger and desperation, and the steady whoosh of the pinwheel blades as his transport skimmed overhead, still a mere blur to the naked eye.

His own breath, the steady in and out, rise and fall of his chest underneath the innumerable layers of cloth and steel (2). Suddenly no longer scared of being alone, but relishing in its liberation.

But the others would be soon to follow his reckless advance. He hoped that he had drawn the enemy's fire for long enough so they could exit the helicopter in relative safety. That was always the most dangerous time, transitioning between the craft and the ground.

There was a slight increase in pitch as the craft slowed its descent and hovered across the ground. The noise was everywhere in that open terrain, surrounding his body even as the electronics in his headset dulled its painfully loud roar.

Their adversaries would have no problem finding the craft while it hovered above the ground, cloaking seals or not. The cushion of air it rode on would give it away as it billowed out the water-like grass underneath.

So once again it was up to him to provide a distraction. He was good at that.

This was where every bit of tactical, as well as common, sense went out the window. He burst forth from his cover whilst dumping every round from his fresh magazine towards the ghostly foe. He was both strong and practiced enough that he could control his grouping even in full-auto. But he didn't even try to do that. He leapt up on top of his cover while hosing down the entire area, making sure he couldn't be ignored.

It was impossible to miss him. His camouflage suit of greens and browns stood out starkly against the pale horizon and the gray boulder underneath, and the newly-born sun illuminated him on center stage for his gun to bark out a soliloquy of steady syllables that was the lingua franca for this day and age.

It was impossible to miss him, and yet they did.

The shots once again scattered all around his feet and whizzed by his head. He had made himself a perfect target, and by now even the most inexperienced among the insurgents had learned to place him underneath their front sight.

And yet none could touch him. Maybe it was the brazenness of the action, the incredulity of such a bold and foolish maneuver which made them falter in their aim. And maybe it was divine luck, once again coming to his aid when it mattered least.

He didn't even notice his excessive chakra output which lit him up even more and subtly deflected the bullets on their course.

Suddenly another barrage of fire opened up in the opposite direction. He hopped down from his perch as the rest of his squad caught up to him and began to shoulder the brunt of the fighting. He strode forward nonchalantly as he once again exchanged his empty mag for a fresh one. They weren't in a hurry to push back their opponents just yet.

They were waiting.

"Nice of you to join me." He spoke into his coms, crouching half-heartedly behind a sharp crag between two rocks and gazing out at the mayhem that was ensuing without his effort. "Any word yet?"

" _Kestrel One had reported no sightings just yet, sir._ "(3) The voice came back unfalteringly. Naruto ignored the formal address. _"No visuals on the ground either."_ The echoes of gunfire popped in his headset.

He watched from his place on the small ridgeline as his forces advanced on the enemy insurgents. It was like watching a strategy game play out in real life. Or, at least, that's the way he wanted it to be. He wanted to become as detached as possible, so that he didn't have to care about the lives being bartered just meters below him.

It would be a lie to say he valued the enemy lives as much as those of his own. But still he didn't relish in the killing. He knew he had to keep a cool head, though. He was responsible now, and if he did things right he would minimize casualties on both sides.

He whipped his head around as an explosion went off in the distance. Staring into the sun, he couldn't quite see where it had been. But he didn't need to. The unique crack and sizzle that had overshadowed the explosive charge told him all he needed to know.

" _Kestrel Three reports dissidents sighted. Mjolnir's 6-9 launched. Confirm impact. Kill waiting."(4)_

So it had started. Little surprise it was Belletriste's group. Though if all went well, the intent was not to kill, but to disable. They would have to wait and see if his seal modification worked. Naruto hoped that they would get their answer soon.

Several much closer, conventional explosions drew his attention. One of them was a little too close for comfort and he threw himself down before the shockwave could do it for him. He felt the heat wash over him even through the protective clothing.

Right then, back to his game.

Shooting himself out of his cover, he dashed downslope at the highest concentration of enemies, sharp eyes searching for the most dangerous among them. He spotted one with an RPG, most likely the one who had just had the nerve to fire at him, for he was busily reloading the cumbersome Soviet-designed weapon.

Before he could deal with the heavily armed man, however, he was forced to throw himself to the side as several shuriken sunk into the grass by his feet. He came out of his roll, attempting to draw a bead on the perpetrator. Unfortunately, this shinobi seemed to be faster than the average he had encountered thus far, and a second wave of bladed stars was already hurled his way.

The shuriken bounced off the flat side of his rifle as he held it out in front of his face to defend himself. One managed to get lodged in the plastic handguard, but he paid it little heed as the enemy shinobi landed on the ground in front of him and began to charge while flipping through hand seals.

The man was fast, otherwise too fast for anyone to shoot at him with any accuracy. Naruto was that otherwise.

He quickly fired from the hip in a desperate yet accurate burst which tore through the shalwar-wearing shinobi, who then stumbled as the clean bullet holes in his chest spewed forth a thick and viscous liquid.

Mud!

Naruto spun around and brought up the butt of his rifle just in time to block the blade which descended upon him. With just a little more effort, he shoved the sword back and kicked out at the now exposed gut of the shinobi who doubled over in a wheezing grunt that surely knocked the air out of him.

Before the man could lift himself off the ground with his sword, Naruto ran up to him and kneed him in the face, effectively ending his participation in the battle.

He looked briefly down at the incapacitated shinobi as if searching for something. The enemy probably had no idea who he was given that the shemagh and brain-bucket effectively hid his face. But still, Naruto might have known him.

He didn't linger on it, lest he lose his nerve. Instead, he raised his carbine with one hand and in a single shot, felled the man with the RPG who was already lining himself up for another shot. He tipped over backwards, and his finger must have hit the trigger for the rocket fired anyway and careened upward into the ever bluing-sky.

Naruto looked remorselessly at the recently dead, and then to the feet of the unconscious shinobi.

Was he a hypocrite? Perhaps. And he could live with that.

The real question was, did he leave the shinobi alive out of kindness? Was it generosity to spare the man's life, or was it apt punishment for the lives that they lead? It was a question he asked of himself quite often these days.

He slung his rifle across his back and out of the way. It was clearly time to switch to melee weapons if there was a chance of any more enemy shinobi. Guns were good, but now the fights were getting personal.

It wasn't quite time to call the strike, though. Not just yet.

Another couple of insurgents ran over to the fallen body of their comrade, quickly looking around for the culprit, and almost as quickly spotted him.

They never stood a chance.

He was upon them even before they had a chance to shoulder their weapons, and they dropped to the ground the moment after.

More enemies spilled forth from behind a massive outcrop where the other two had come from. Naruto already had one of the fallen enemy's rifles in his hand and he chucked it at the group, bowling a couple over but more importantly sewing chaos through the tightly bunched ranks.

He felt himself smile behind his mask as he sped into their midst. He was the most accomplished shinobi among their group. This was where he belonged. Right at the front leading the way.

He bobbed and weaved, kicked and punched, stomped and gouged with fists, feet, fingers, knees and every other part of his body. He relished in the almost non-existent feeling of his gear as it clung tightly to his body throughout his aggressive gymnastics. They had finally managed to procure equipment to suit their needs, and boy did it make a difference.

It was the little things in life which always brought a smile to his face.

Next on the list, instant Ramen rations. But that would come later. And maybe by then he would have put this life behind him as well.

He had just bodily thrown one of the foreign fighters into another two, when a fourth dressed in Afghan garb leapt over the domino fall of the other three. It was soon very clear that this person was no native.

Naruto leapt backwards to gain some distance from the mosh pit and the new ninja insurgent who had already sent a blade of water at the spot he had just occupied. Despite the aridity of the valley, It tore up the ground and threw a veil of churned earth into the air, obscuring them from his sight.

He leaned back as a slender hand clutching a kunai whizzed past his helmeted head. Kevlar would have done nothing to prevent the sharpened steel from penetrating right through to his brain. But both attacks were dodged with little effort. This person had nothing on the scythe-wielding shinobi from before.

And they had nothing on him.

He latched onto their extended arm but their hand slipped through his grip. The skinny arm like a bokken broke his clasped fingers and the enemy backed off in a hurry, eager to gain distance and throw another jutsu his direction.

He noticed that it was likely a woman behind that tightly-wrapped shemagh and mushrooming pakul. It almost brought a smile to his face, realizing with irony that their nation's kunochi had managed to force their way into the traditional hegemony. Accepted based on the merit of their skills.

But then he frowned, realizing more likely it was yet another example of the rest of the world seeing them as both something more, and something less than human.

He was getting complacent. He let her finish her sequence and launch the prepared attack at him before he reacted. Or maybe he was getting cocky because he knew that the enemy kunochi was not match for him?

Was it really hubris if he had the means to back it up?

He had watched her form the seals, already knowing what she was about to do. And as soon as the infant moldings of chakra left her lips, he was already forming his own, stronger version of the attack.

He saw her eyes widen as she inhaled in preparation, his concussive ball of wind already speeding at her. She hastily loosed her own Suiton technique but it was too little and too late. Naruto's barreled through the half-formed attack and sent the kunochi flying, smashing against one of the isolated boulders.

He narrowed his eyes behind his goggles, wondering if he had made the technique too powerful as he recalled the slightly mushy sound she had made when she had impacted. But regrets were something to worry about later, it was enough for now to restrain his arrogance. Something he thought he had purged, by now.

Just then his radio crackled to life.

" _Springhare One reporting in for Kestrel Three: Kill confirmed. Repeat, Kill confirmed._ "

Which, ironically enough, meant that no one had died. Naruto allowed the smile he had worn in combat to return to his face as he hopped back on the open com channel.

"Otocyon (5) here. Sighting confirmed. Two Sierras. Any other contacts out there?" The reply came back almost instantly.

" _Negative, sir. Kestrel Two reports use of Mjolnir four but has kept five and six in reserve. Tangos only down here. No word back from Caracal._ "

So, no more shinobi other than the ones he was dealing with right now? That was odd. Then again, his NCO had already used his three missiles, so maybe the bulk of them were farther East. He hoped that his modifications had done the trick. His commanding officer could hold his own until he finished up here.

"Right. Tell Kestrel One to be prepared to support Caracal (6) if need be. Keep in contact with Springhares Two and Three and let me know what's going on. Also, be prepared to launch Mjolnir's on my position, I think-"

With the electronic headset drowning out all of the ambient noise, it was the briefest flashes of light that alerted him to the enemy's approach. By the time he turned, the blades were already drawn and waiting for him.

"-I seem to be in the thick of it here."

Three of the five locally uniformed ninja attacked him all at once. Two of them launched simultaneously a fire and wind technique, while the third in the cover they provided circled around to the side to pepper him with assorted bladed weapons.

Naruto once again felt himself smile despite the unavoidable combo thrown at him which now drowned out his entire field of vision. If either the chakra or physical attack hit him, he would be toast. No clones to sub out with, no Kyuubi to heal him or shroud him in corrosive chakra, he was stuck with only his ingenuity and resilience.

It was all he ever wanted.

The fireball consumed everything within a 50-meter radius of where he had stood. It consumed all the dry grass and left naught but scorched earth and a discarded carbine in their wake. The metal blades impacted what remained and their attached tags detonated, cratering the barren patch and kicking up huge chunks of loosely consolidated soil into the air. There was nowhere to hide.

The two shinobi who had held back immediately went on guard as they saw something larger than both the ash and the dirt fall through the air. The one on the right unhesitatingly launched a blade of wind from their kusarigama at the body in freefall as it seemed to reach for its own blades to bear on their unsuspecting allies.

The atomically-sharp attack sliced the shinobi-soldier clean in half.

Two halves of a rifle fell to the ground.

The shinobi who had cast the fire-jutsu was blasted into his partner by another wind attack from a spot that was blind to the other two in reserve, as well as the last shinobi whom they heard cry out as he was summarily dispatched.

One looked to the other in apprehension that was reserved behind his headwrap. The other did not acknowledge him as they stared down at the battle which was being quickly tied up, their eyes an unreadable emerald slate mounted in that gap allowed by the mask.

They watched their two comrades be tossed around by the shinobi who was also bearing the sign of the Legionnaire, the flaming bomb patch which had become infamous in their part of the world as it had elsewhere (7).

Those three hadn't been slouches by any means. None of them were. They were, after all, the only ones left after arduous months of fighting in hostile territory.

But their brethren circumstances had made their enemy, had taken their members out like they had been fresh Genin. It shouldn't have been a surprise, really. They knew the final battle was here. And they knew _he_ would be the one to lead it.

Just as Naruto knew the familiar outline of his enigmatic adversary, the same one that had dogged him from his first mission onward. He still didn't know what drove him to pursue that particular shinobi. He struggled to deny that their continued existence reminded him of Sasuke. He had never gotten closure, and so transferred his discontent to this faceless avatar, eager to finish at least one thing he started out to do.

He didn't know them, didn't know how to justify this compulsion. But both knew what came next.

The veiled ninja who was fighting on behalf of the Afghan rebels held their hand against their comrade, preventing him from engaging the obviously dangerous opponent. He looked at his leader skeptically, but the message was clear.

 _He's mine_.

Naruto was thinking likewise as he faced off against the last two shinobi in enemy employ. He was eager to end his competition with the scythe-wielder, however one-sided it might be.

He didn't know why he didn't call for backup. The Mjolnir's had been made for just this purpose: to incapacitate enemy shinobi by overloading their chakra network using a modified EMP blast. The prototype weapons had been procured with great difficulty in a hurry, and he had nearly broken himself trying to get them ready in time for just this mission.

They would have ended it with a single stroke, a handful of words spoken into his com would bring down the still concealed helicopter with its compliment of missiles on their position and fry them all. It would remove the most competent fighters from the battle, but also deprive their enemy of the last vestiges of hope they clung to. They could all give up and go home.

So why didn't he?

It seemed no matter how much experience he garnered, no matter how much he tried to sacrifice his urges for the sake of the larger picture, the mission, the safety of his comrades, he was still at the mercy of his instincts. The lust for battle still drew him, time and time again. No, it wasn't battle he lusted after. It was the simplicity. The sense of accomplishment.

He wondered if humanity would ever be rid of it. How could they, if he himself could not overcome those feelings? But what else could substitute? Those consecutive moments of combat were proof that he was still alive, that he was still worth something to the world and to those around him.

What was he without that?

Whether or not his adversary thought the same he would never know. They suddenly charged him head on- a foolish move even he would recognize. The other held himself back and looked on with amazement at the impressive display of speed and aggression. But then he was engaged by the rest of Naruto's squad who had finally circled around and were shooting at him, forcing him to retreat and find cover.

Naruto meanwhile was preoccupied with his current engagement. His nemesis rushed at him with their kusarigama held low and tight to the body, lashing out at him with quick and acute strikes like the stinger of a scorpion. He drew a machete strapped to his assault pack and began to counter rather than dodge. But it was clear that despite his increased training and practice, he was not at the skill level of his opponent.

It was also apparent that they knew this, and so kept up with the assault, not giving him a chance to disengage or use one of his other weapons. If it was a mere battle of attrition, Naruto could have easily won. But each deflection of the enemy blade was getting narrower and narrower, and he didn't want to test his armor against that kind of strength.

It was clear that it wouldn't have done much against that blade, especially when the ninja coated it with a thin blade of wind which cut his machete clean off at the handle, and Naruto was forced to narrowly dodge a follow up that was aimed at his head.

He grimaced as he palmed a double-edged dagger (8) given to him by Manu shortly before the Belgian transferred out. He held it in a crouch, with two fingers parallel to the blade as he watched his enemy cautiously.

They looked back at him with their head cocked to the side, an amused sheen in the jade-like gaze, their wind-blade held at the side. They had clearly expected him to use something more destructive than the tiny dirk he held now in his defense.

Naruto smirked, seeing the blinding arrogance from the other side. He wasn't going to give them a chance to learn from this mistake.

He shifted the dagger just to the side of his body as he channeled some of his excess chakra into a pre-arranged seal. It was just something minor that he had cooked up in his spare time, but it was something he was sure his opponent wouldn't be prepared for.

It was no longer arrogance that was blinding, but light, as a miniature flashbang erupted from a panel on his chest. He had closed his eyes in anticipation, and his polarizing lenses took care of the rest. But the insurgent with their polished gemstone eyes was caught head on by the disruption device.

Naruto rushed in, within the midst of that split-second disorientation he thrust the stiletto blade towards the center of mass as the ninja raised their hand to their face in a futile effort to stifle the blindness.

He would have been disappointed had the match ended so suddenly, but was not too happy either when against all expectations, the enemy stepped in rather than out, twisting their body so that the spear-point passed only through rough-hewn cotton and not flesh.

Naruto cursed as his blade became ensnared in the voluminous robe and threatened to pull away from him, just as his opponent, still in their blind state, hacked downward with their scythe. Luckily for him, the moment's lapse in concentration broke the blade of wind that was cycling over the metal one, and he was able to grab the weapon hand as it descended down towards his unarmored neck.

"Oh no you don't!"

Deciding to use the same tactic, he stepped further in rather than try to disentangle himself and his blade from the billowing cotton shirt, simultaneously bringing a knee into the person's gut.

"Oh, come on!"

He yelled out loud without being aware that anything had left his mouth, exasperated that his efforts had been stymied yet again by the still blind and disoriented ninja, who nonetheless countered his knee using their own as well as pure instinct.

They pushed and pulled and stumbled in the deadlock they suddenly found themselves in. Every second he was caught up in it was another second for Naruto's opponent to regain their awareness, and was another moment for him to get further frustrated.

Was this really all he was capable of? Still take away his jutsu and his seals and what was left was just as ungainly and raw as it had always been. But he still had one thing he could count on, even in his lack of refinement that plagued him to this day.

Ingenuity.

He drew his head back, unbeknown to the enemy ninja, and with his powerful neck muscles whipped it forward. His already thick skull when reinforced by the helmet overlaying it was as devastating as he could have hoped. It sent the enemy shinobi tumbling backwards, but drawing Naruto along with it.

He summersaulted over their fallen body, wrenching his blade free with a grand rip of weather-worn cloth and sunk back into a ready stance. He was positive that his little trick would not be the end to their game.

They were quite dazed, though, and struggled to right themselves. Not waiting for this to happen, Naruto rushed back in again.

Emerald eyes widened as the upside-down image of the armored shinobi bore down upon their prone form. They rolled to the side as the stab whistled past them, dodging again with one hand soon after as another of the same was sent their way. And another, and another. Suddenly it was them on the defensive as the legionnaire stabbed wildly at their fleeing form, not giving them a second's pause.

Though Naruto had the distinct advantage at the moment, he was again getting frustrated by the lack of effectiveness of his attacks. It was a fine blade to be sure, but it was more suited to quick and precise strikes with its diamond-shaped blade and fine taper. He was just a more…. _collateral_ kind of guy.

Despite the venerable and ancient rocks around him, there wasn't enough life to give him a boost of Nature Chakra. So he had to rely on some more traditional methods.

He broke off suddenly, backpedaling while weaving a handful of seals between the blade clutched in one hand. The eyes of his opponent narrowed as they struggled to mount a defense. But it was obviously too late, and they only had time to dodge.

He drew in a sharp breath, and then like he was shooting a spitball, unleashed an especially dense sphere, the size of a basketball, at the stunned ninja. He resorted to hand seals in this case because he required the concentration to condense the air down to such a small size. But this way, there was no way they could avoid it, or its intended target.

As expected, they tried to get their body out of the way first, leaving the kusarigama to trail behind. It was impossible for them to hold on once the attack struck. It blasted the weapon out of their grip, and far, far, out of the reach of anyone other than Naruto's allies.

 _Gotcha!_

The second sphere of air was not nearly as dense as the first, but it came so soon afterwards that it was totally unexpected, totally impossible to move out of its way as it barreled into the enemy. The double-tap threw them into another awaiting boulder which cavitated upon impact.

This time Naruto did not linger considering the viciousness of his attack. He was gone, lost with the moment and already back on the move, right hand held out from himself in preparation for one of his favorite techniques that had not gotten to use in recent months for its lack of subtlety.

This may not have been the opportune time, either, but that fact concerned him little. The only thing left in his mind was ending the prolonged conflict once and for all.

Their body fell away from the fractured rock and they landed on all fours, blood and tattered cloth shedding off their back and onto the virgin grass. Their fingers sunk deep into the cool and fertile soil, massaging the roots which burrowed deep down into the earth, and connected them all in one huge, living mass.

They heard the distinct swirling noise of the Rasengan as it descended upon them. It was not something easily forgotten.

Summoning what little strength they held in reserve, they pushed back from the ground just as it was torn asunder, dirt and plant life being ripped to shreds as the gnashing ball of energy destroyed that land which had remained untouched by human hands for millennia.

Seeing that he missed, Naruto canceled the Rasengan and looked up to see the battered ninja backing away from him, one arm clutching the other whose pale-gray sleeve was stained a muddy red. He crouched there, unblinking and waiting for them to make the next move.

He snapped to action when in a flash they drew a kunai and chucked it at the space between them, hopping back when he noticed the tag tied to its handle.

He braced himself for the explosion which never came. The hissing puff of rapidly escaping gas filled his ears as he cursed and opened his eyes.

"Coward!" He shouted at the smokescreen before foolishly diving through it.

He had abandoned reason yet again. He knew this. It might get him killed one day, but that was just his character, to act on impulse.

There was no guarantee that this enemy was the last, though. He should be thinking more critically, retreating so that he could properly assess the situation. Had he done so, he probably would have ordered a strike with one of his missiles, and be done with it. Or he could wait until backup arrived. Either would do.

It's what a good leader would do.

But why he couldn't shake the personal attachment he found to this fight? Did he so badly need an enemy, someone like that to prove his existence? He didn't want to believe he was becoming like his best friend and rival. But come to think of it, he had never really given a thought as to how the other young man felt.

Was it that same feeling of inadequacy, that lack of accomplishment which had accompanied him for as long as he could remember? Had they all along been one and the same?

He followed those feelings through the smoke.

Their side had lost. Their purpose was gone. They had known it for months, perhaps years, and had just been waiting for the day it would all end. When there was but one of them left.

She was that one. And today was the day.

And she would fight. The rest of the world had moved on without them, left their kind behind to turn to rust and blow away in the ever-changing wind. Yet they still had purpose. Killers always had a purpose in the world of man. For as long as there were humans on their earth, there would be conflict.

But she fought now, not to fulfill that inevitable prophecy of violence. Not out of revenge, hatred nor lust of battle. Not out of desperation, inevitability nor boredom.

She picked herself up again and again, against insurmountable odds because she believed it was the right thing to do.

And the hell of it was, her opponent thought the same. And he would keep going until there was a victor, an end to this conflict which stacked upon so many others. He wouldn't give up in his own sense of righteousness until the fighting ended, or he did.

She knew this. After all, he was the one who inspired her to do the same.

"Get back here!"

Did he realize he slipped back into their native tongue? Did he even realize he was speaking? He had all but lost himself in the confrontation, perhaps recognizing this, but ignoring it for the finality it promised.

The least she could do was put up a good fight.

She dodged the second Rasengan Barrage, tossed around like it was going out of style. Their war had been one of subtlety, of hearts and minds and not of unparalleled devastation. This was his chance to cut loose, and he was going to take advantage of it.

"Kuso! Where did they go?"

The last of the enemy shinobi had suddenly gotten cold feet and was fleeing their battle. Naruto stayed on their tail with all the tenacity of a dog with a scnet, but they just kept running away. Where did they think they were going to go?

The Whakan corridor, the entirety of Afghanistan and the surrounding terrain was nothing but a series of barren hills and valleys many leagues in width and breadth. Civilization was few and far between. Sympathetic populations sparser still. The Coalition forces controlled everywhere else in the area. There was nowhere to run.

At this thought, his opponent suddenly halted, and Naruto came to a screeching stop a stone's throw away. He erected himself slowly from where he landed in a crouch, standing broad and defiant against the other with their back towards him.

This wasn't how soldiers fought. This wasn't even how shinobi fought. There was no cloak and dagger here, no politics and no pretense. There was just them, they had left their comrades far behind, so they wouldn't get caught up in the chaos.

Naruto flinched, having just realized that this could have been all just an elaborate set up to lure him away from his support. If it was though, he would make them regret it.

She was leading him, just not for the reason he suspected.

With back still turned, she knelt down and thrust her hand into the recently turned soil, her hands latching on to the familiar form buried beneath, its stainless metal surface still cold from the sub-zero nights which swallowed this part of the mountains. But it was familiar, like a friend, and it brought a warm feeling.

Naruto looked on in morbid curiosity, he knew he should be preparing for a prearranged attack of some magnitude, but part of him just wanted to see what they had in store. Of course, he wasn't prepared when the ninja spun on their heel, wrenching a long-black case from the earth and heaving it in his direction. He was even less prepared when the case split along its length and unfolded into massive fan with three purple moons adorning its face.

He barely registered being airborne, high above the grass sea. So high up he could see the entire battle stretching up the valley for kilometers. Action figures, playthings on a surreal canvas moving here and there, to and froe at a glacial pace.

Nothing else passed his notice. Not the familiar weapon used to send him into the sky. Not the obvious hints that had been dropped along his path like caltrops all along. Not even the emerald eyes that stared down at him with a mixture of pity and pain.

And something else…

He did see the shadow though, the menacing bird of prey as it descended upon his airborne form. He twisted his body unconstrained by gravity and thrust out a hand which nearly caught the massive weapon. He did catch it, but with nothing underneath him, he slipped down amongst the surly bonds of the planet and sped towards the ground, shocked enemy in tow as he refused to relinquish his grip.

What the hell was he thinking? Did he have a death wish? She brought both feet down into his chest, trying to knock him off her weapon. It worked, but instead he grabbed her legs and spun around, reversing their situation and sending her flying towards the ground faster than before.

But unlike him, she had a remedy. She placed her fan underneath her, riding it with a burst of chakra up and out of danger.

Naruto felt himself growl in a primal and nostalgic way as his flighty enemy literally flew out of his grasp. But little were they to know, he had a few more tricks up his sleeve as well. Or rather, up his pantlegs.

Once again his heavier center of mass worked in his favor as he was able to orient himself feet-first towards the ground and stay there even with the buffeting currents trying to tumble him. When he was only a few meters above the ground, he funneled some chakra to the soles of his feet, the tread already inscribed with yet another seal he had concocted in the recent weeks.

He rode a cushion of air down like the helicopters. It wasn't much. It didn't have to be, his bones were already accustomed to absorbing just such a shock. But now the real test would come, his once again airborne opponent hopped off their ride so they could launch another wind-based attack at him.

He smiled and crouched down before he leapt up into the air over the wind blade which gouged a new Faultline in the landscape. Up and over, and up, and up, and up. He had dumped a little more chakra than necessary into the seal. With its spot on the bottom of his boots, it was sure to wear out sooner rather than later. But if would hold for now.

That was the beautiful thing about seals, though. He didn't have to memorize a bunch of hand signs or even practice a specific mold for his chakra. The only thing that he was limited by was his imagination, and a steady hand.

His adversary certainly found it impressive, if a bit shocking. One minute she had the high ground, the next, the very concept of the term was revisited. She didn't have much time to come to terms with it, though. Naruto was already halfway to her and was quickly closing that distance. She didn't have a choice but to brace herself for impact.

His fist impacted the folded metal surface of the fan like a sledgehammer. Which was nothing compared to what he used to be able to do with the Kyuubi's strength, but it would have to do. He twisted his body and kicked the fan aside, only to have his enemy spin around with the momentum of their weapon and strike at him again, using the fan like a bat. Unable to dodge and unable to block, he did the next best thing and elbowed the thing out of their hands, shooting it towards the ground far below.

He saw their fathomless eyes widen in surprise before he slammed his fist across their masked face. He didn't stop there, couldn't stop there, couldn't stop to think about what he was doing. He grabbed them by the wrinkled collar of their tattered shalwar and slung them in the same direction as their weapon.

Dazed from the initial punch, she didn't have time to think about a landing strategy. She just sped towards the rapidly approaching ground, gazing back up at the indomitable soldier she once knew. It was a long way down.

And it was a short stop.

She felt her back arch over the butt-end of her weapon sticking out of the ground like a tombstone. She cried out in silent pain as she was impaled on that blunt edge, inexorably sloughing off and landing crumpled upon the ground where she whimpered lowly, unknown.

She wasn't sure what her tears were for. Maybe it was for the irony finally catching up to her.

Naruto landed once again upon the ground across form his adversary, who lay immobile next to their weapon.

Was that it? He had barely worked up a sweat. This was the first time he had gotten to really stretch his legs in a while, and he was almost… disappointed that it was over. It was anticlimactic to him, but more than that, he felt it should have been more, harder. Something, anything to justify the way he felt. Something to make sense of all those who had died before this.

Were the lives sacrificed on both side all just a culmination to this moment? Not just the ones lost in this unwinnable war, but all those that came before, all the centuries of hatred he was only obliquely familiar with.

Where was the satisfying ending he needed to be rid of this inadequacy?

"Get up." He growled, demanding, pleading.

The tears were so heavy. Everything was so heavy. She just wanted to lie there and die, at the bottom of the grass sea staring up at the black metal obelisk, winking at her in the rising sun. But he was asking her to go on, and she had no choice to do so.

Why? because that's what he would have done.

He saw as they dragged themselves up using the fan as support. He could see their body shake as it worked against itself, irreparable damage propagating beneath the surface of a fractured spine. But still, they obliged him.

He felt angry. He felt sick. He felt alive.

His helmet and the rest lay by his feet. When had he taken them off? Why did he do so? Those questions were chalked up to the rest which would never be answered, attributed by the military tribunal to combat-induced stress and mortal egotism.

He wanted to be able to meet her stare, emerald eyes jading over as his frozen ice-storms weathered away at her conviction. She saw him without the mask. The figurative one eroded away, the literal discarded. She saw his pain, his hopeless with the impossible cause he had assigned himself.

Poor Naruto. Don't you understand that what you seek isn't a destination you can reach alone? Where are your friends? Why did you leave them behind? Why do you hide behind this curtain of agony and ignorance?

Open your eyes,

Open your eyes and see me,

Open your eyes and see yourself.

He saw her scream, yell out to the heavens as she ripped her weapon from its earthen prison. Saw her streak copious amounts of blood onto its unfurled face and swing it at him with all her own pain, anger, frustration and sadness.

And finally, he saw her.

"Temari?"

Her name came out like a whisper heard above the battle cry as she made to finish what they had started. And suddenly everything, all the things he must have deliberately ignored came rushing back at him, into him, and he was paralyzed as it assaulted his every sense. He realized what had happened, but by the time he would realize what was happening, it would be too late to change anything.

It was okay, though. It was justice for what he had almost done. What he had done. He had substituted the dreams of another for his own. He had killed because of it. He had become something he was not, so that he could believe in that sophistry.

"ENOUGH!"

Was peace really a lie? It sounded so tempting, so perfect. But life wasn't perfect, and there were costs in the pursuit of such divine goals.

Kamatari materialized from the pocket dimension created by the summoning ritual, riding on a hurricane of wind chakra and adrenaline, speeding at Naruto who could do nothing but stand and watch.

It was all well and good to make sacrifices in the name of peace. But somewhere he had lost his way, bartered what made him, him. And that was unacceptable.

Temari was crying as she put the last of herself, the last of her everything into the summoning technique. It might have been one of the most powerful attacks in her arsenal, but it was also familiar, something comforting in this comedy of errors that was their lives. Whatever happened, whatever the result of her last effort, she didn't want to be alone.

Why wasn't he dodging? Why wasn't he moving himself out of the way? Did he consider this his punishment for straying from his path? Did he simply want to be done with all of it, to be rid of the burden only he really expected of himself?

It wasn't Kamatari's place to question why he was there.

It wasn't Temari's place to stop him.

And it wasn't up to Naruto to condemn himself.

So it was up to him, once again. He just hoped he made the right choice, this time.

* * *

" _Onamae-wa, nan desu-ka?"_

Naruto found himself staring up at the heavens, the clear blue sky that particularly abyssal shade of blue that came when one was so close to the edge of the world. His body was heavy, cold and soaked with blood. But he felt no pain, no release.

" _What's your name, kid?"_

There came a whisper from far away, deep in his past. And another, so close.

Even if he could, he didn't feel like moving. He wanted to remain stationary, for once in this constantly changing word which made no sense of up or down, right or wrong.

" _I'm talking to you kid. Entendes? Tu t'appelles comment?"_

The whisper was getting fainter, and a rumbling hum was taking its place. The chattering thwack of the giant crickets was back. Why couldn't they leave him in peace?

Temari hobbled over to him, looked like she was going to say something but didn't. He wouldn't have heard it anyway. She dropped her fan, then dropped to her knees, reaching down and shifting something off of him. He felt lighter, but still so cold. And he still didn't want to get up.

He was faintly aware of other voices, incomprehensible on the tip of his awareness.

She glanced at what she had removed from on top of him before she tore her eyes off of both, looking up to the horizon. A deadened expression crossed her face as she drifted away from him.

The mumbles which were but soft tingling vibrations surrounded him now, drowning him on the edge of his conscience. They flooded into his vision, taking Temari away from him and crowding him in a haze of darkness and frenzied motion.

"He's going into shock!"

"Get that vest off of him."

"Who has the med-kit? I need it here now!"

"You deal with the commander, he's more severely injured."

"He's already gone, I need to do what I can now. Don't distract me!"

"I can't stop the bleeding. How far out is evac?"

"They're not going to make it…"

These were among the many words spoken which fell on deaf ears. When he recalled the incident later, he would say it was like they were spoken in a foreign language, one that he only now understood.

" _Onamae-wa… onamae… name…name…_

The whisper was still the only clear thing, and it was drifting ever farther away.

"He's still breathing! Get that stretcher over here now!"

"Stay with us…."

" _Je m'appelle…"_

"My name is…"

" _Come back…Naruto."_

* * *

"With all due respect, ma'am, it doesn't look like either of them is going to make it. That puts you in charge."

Karui glared at the young upstart that dared to tell her what to do, dared speak such words in front of her. True, he wasn't **that** much younger, and had likely fought in the last shinobi war as well. But somewhere along the line, she felt like she had become old, worn down by the drudgery of battle. She was still going to set him straight, though.

"He'll make it." She needed no clarification. "They both will." She tacked on as an afterthought. But truth be told she was only sure on the former. The latter would survive, if only to spite their expectations.

"Well, in the meantime," Trained so that he withstood the death glare bearing down on him, the legionnaire pressed on. "what should be done about her?"

Karui tossed her rifle on her shoulder and removed the sweaty _casque_ , letting the breeze run through her short-cropped hair. She sighed and glanced over to flock of prisoners held at gunpoint on their knees with zip-tied hands behind their backs. Set aside from the herd was the dusty blonde, more dust than the other now, being treated by one of the combat medics.

She sat like the rest on her knees, hands bound behind her and with a chakra-seal, ancient surplus from before the last shinobi war, slapped around the plastic handcuffs. What **should** be done with her?

Furthermore, why were those sealing tags even necessary? Why hadn't Naruto requested air support? Why didn't he stick with the plan he himself devised?

It had worked for the other two squads, flawlessly in fact. The moment enemy ninja had engaged them, the Mjolnir's had been called in within seconds, and within an equal timeframe the dissident forces had surrendered. Once it had been obvious that anyone with a chakra network was out of commission, they had given up all hope and desire to fight.

But Mjolnir's one through three still lingered in their custom braces, jury-rigged to the outside of the Super-Puma, Kestrel One. It had been pure stupidity on Naruto's part that he had neglected to call in for support. Not because he wasn't capable of taking on whole armies by himself. Not because he had broken his own rank. Not even because he had abandoned the rest of his squad to go on this personal crusade.

All those reasons in themselves were grievous, yet pardonable offenses. It was because he had yet again ignored the pleas of his comrades, thinking he still had something to prove. Whether it be to fate, to them, or to himself.

Now he had no choice. He would either learn, or it would cease to matter where he ended up.

In a way, she wanted to blame their commanding officer, for expecting too much from the young man he had seemingly taken under his wing. She wanted to blame herself, Tenten, and the others for being unable to reach him. She wanted to blame the woman in front of her, for being on the wrong side in all of this.

But that was a luxury she wouldn't allow herself.

"What the hell are you doing here, woman?"

She strode over the trampled grass and over to the isolated POW. She was being doted on by Squad One's medic who had nothing better to do now that the series casualties had been evacuated. All two of them. And he occupied himself with cleaning up the minor cuts and bruises which littered her face and upper body. The other wounds couldn't be dealt with. Not yet.

The redhead veteran saw the former enemy combatant look at her with carefully guarded apprehension. She motioned for the other soldier to leave them alone.

"Screw off." She jerked her thumb back over her shoulder, to where the rest of the squads were milling about, waiting for mop-up and extraction.

The young man nodded dutifully and left without a fuss. He was a former cloud-nin, like herself. And he had been a shit Irōnin, but was now a great combat medic. Something obsolete that had found new life in the expanded world.

"So…" She looked down her nose at the defeated woman whom she once held in the highest regard. "Are you going to tell me or what?"

Temari didn't move her gaze from where it settled on the woman's booted feet crushing the wilted grass.

"He just always had to be right, didn't he?" Though irked by the non-sequitur, Karui heaved a sigh and answered.

"Yeah, that he does." Naruto, for it was obvious whom they were talking about, always had both the luck and the obstinacy to be right an annoyingly large percentage of the time.

"So how can someone who is always right, be so often wrong?"

Karui had to restrain herself from lashing out at the helpless yet seemingly defiant blonde. How dare she question all **he** had done, all **they** had done, when she had been fighting them every step of the way? But before she could even lift a finger in retaliation, Temari continued.

"He saved my brother, you know? He showed him the way to peace, showed all of us the way to peace. And I followed in his footsteps. I thought that I was doing what I was supposed to…." She snapped her head up to meet the patronizing glare, and any rebuttal Karui had died in her throat and she took an involuntary step back as she was confronted with a rekindled passion.

"We handed out food. We treated the sick and injured. We built schools to revitalize a country that has been bombed into the dark ages. But every time we tried to do some good, our efforts were spurned. The people we gave the food to, starved the day after. The sick and injured went right back into the dangers that got them there. And every school we built was razed to the ground, time and again."

"That's what we've been trying to stop! That's why we're here in the first place! To put an end to the fighting so that-"

"Fighting requires two sides! You were part of the problem!"

"Bullshit! The people you were supporting are misogynistic, genocidal fanatics! They were the ones wrecking the country!"

"And you're just a bunch of mercenaries! That's all we ever were! Killers, murders, assassins for the highest bidder! What makes you think you are doing things any better?!"

Karui didn't have an answer for that. Even though she had asked herself the same thing many times previous to this, she was still far away from having satisfaction.

"But the people you fought for are **wrong**." She asserted. Even though she knew it to be true, it still felt weak.

"How can you decide right and wrong if you never even listen?!" Temari hissed out, and once again Karui found herself at a loss.

Temari drew patient breath, trying not to invalidate her point by losing her temper. She had been holding it in for so long, though, and now she had nothing else to lose by voicing it.

"Do you think I fought for them because I believe in their religion? Because I support the disparity between sexes? Classes? Races? Do you think I fought out of convenience? Greed? Pathological desire?"

"I'm sure I don't have any idea why you did what you did." Karui spat out, refusing to meet the accusing stare.

"I fought for them because no one else would. Because no one else would listen to what they had to say, no one ever listened to what they had to say. Everyone who came into this country intending to do some good just forced their version of the truth down their throats. Every change that came into their lives brought nothing but instability and destruction. Sound familiar?"

Once upon a time they had been the small fish in the big pond, subject to the whims of the masses. They had always been separate shinobi factions. One day they had been forced to come together, to form villages. And then they partnered with the Daimyos to form nations. Later on, when confronted with the enormity of the globe, they had formed their own confederacy. And each time, there was pain.

There was still pain.

"But we had something these people don't. A common enemy…" Temari's glare was deadly, and despite herself Karui felt shame hammering away at the back of her skull. " **And** , inspiration, to do better, to be better."

Right now, though, their inspiration was still working on himself. Trying to find the flame that once made him a guiding light.

Temari smiled softly and let herself relax onto her legs as she struggled to find comfort in that compromising position.

"I guess… I was a fool. Stupid, to think I could try to change them from within."

"No more foolish than using strength to get your way." Temari looked up in mild surprise at the redhead who scoffed at the hopeful glance.

"Don't get me wrong. Your choice was beyond stupid. How you thought you would make things better I'll never know. People will look at you as a terrorist, a murder. Some will even see you as a traitor, and they wouldn't be wrong for thinking so."

"And what about you?" Temari batted back, undaunted. She wasn't asking for an opinion.

"I suppose history will take care of us." Karui sighed, suddenly inexorably weary. She kneeled down across from the bound woman, leaning on the butt of her rifle next to her in the tall grass. "History makes fools of us all."

"Then what was the point, if not to try to do good?"

"We were trying to do good. We did do the right thing." But she didn't sound convinced. "Is it our fault if it all goes to pieces?"

There was a long pause after that rhetorical question which was filled by the rustling of grass in the midday breeze. If it wasn't their fault, whose was it? That spot would only be filled with a person to blame, and no one wanted to fill that vacancy. That's why they were called the losers.

"Do you think things would have be the same, had they gone the other way?" Temari's whisper broke their silence. If their roles as prisoner and captor had been reversed, what then?

"Maybe. I guess in a way it was just a race to the finish line. We just happened to get there first."

"Maybe," Temari shook her head and Karui cocked a curious eyebrow. "No. It's never just that simple. There was never that one white ribbon at the end of the road for us to cross. It just keeps going. The question is now: where do we go from here?"

"For you? Right now? I imagine a quick military tribunal and summary execution. You are an ununiformed fighter in a warzone. That's a war crime." Karui had grown tired of pontificating chatter that was going nowhere. They had won, for better or worse, and like the other woman said, they now had to deal with it.

For her part, Temari smiled at the ironic statement. Once they had both been ninja, and disguises were part and parcel of their job description. And even now, dressed in clothes from a different world, she never felt more like herself.

"Something funny, princess?" She didn't answer but shook her head.

"So, was it worth it? Fighting against your countrymen for a bunch of ragheads?" Karui kept niggling at the betrodden kunochi, irrational vindictiveness covering just how empty she felt. There wasn't any answer for that.

Was it worth it?

She stood up in a huff, suddenly eager to get away from these heavy ideas and back to the inane carousing of her comrades, who were too busy reveling in their windfall victory to care about what came next.

"I don't know…" Temari considered softly, almost to herself. Yet Karui paused in her retreat, back turned to the conquered woman. "I think I'll ask Naruto, next time I see him."

"Putain…" Karui growled to herself as she stormed off, leaving the one prisoner under guard but off all by herself.

Temari watched the woman retreat to her comfort, and let her own forced smile droop. She let herself flop over onto her side, and then rolled on her back so she could gaze up at the white speckled mountains and the fathomless blue sky, all framed in a dusty green frame of wild grass. Things which never changed, even as her tears fell silently and blurred all the colors into one.

* * *

1) Yes, I did the calculations (these are metric tons, it makes the maths easier.)

2) Most armies today use ceramic plates for their body armor, but there is very little reason to. Equivalent steel protection is only a few pounds heavier, and can stop blades better than ceramic (knives go right through layered kevlar). I figure that if they are shinobi, they get what they want, and let's face it, at their physical level, 30kg (68lbs) of armor is **nothing** when you can do the things they do. But still, bullets hurt...

3) Most of the recent French deployments have been named after animals, and in particular African animals. I have decided to stick with this theme, and so the Helicopters are _Kestrels_.

4) For those of you not familiar with the Marvel comic (which spoiled all the fun out of knowing mythology) Mjolnir is Thor's hammer.

5) This is the species name for a Bat-Eared Fox, native to South Africa

6) Another SA native, a big cat, like a bobcat. This is Belletriste's codename. I didn't get to mention it, but the leader for Squad two (Karui) would be Atelerix, a SA hedgehog.

7) The flaming bomb has been used by the FFL since their inception, and was coopted for the US artillery in WWI.

8) Fairbairn-Sykes Commando dagger. Pioneered by the SAS in WWII and retained for many years afterwards (it's on their beret badge for pete's sake). The Belgians still retain traditional ties to the SAS (their own regiment was disbanded recently), so I figured this would be a valid parting gift from the cumbersome Belgian.

So yes, for those of you who bother to read the notes (as well as the story), I do my research. Always happy to elaborate on anything, this is just the ADD reader's digest version.

Oh, and at the end, Karui is calling Temari a whore (not to be confused with Poutine, which is delicious.)


	10. Deep When the River's High

Naruto sat in the middle row of a mostly empty plane, reluctant to see the view from the window seat. The plush cushions underneath him an unfamiliar luxury. The medals on his chest an unfamiliar weight.

It was funny. After defeating Pein, there'd been no fancy ceremony or celebration, only exasperated thankfulness at having the dead returned to them before they'd had to push forward. But there'd also been a bleak hopelessness as they looked upon the remainder of their once proud village, surveying all the work left ahead of them, dreading that next step.

And when he'd left the loose collective of tribes known as Afghanistan, there was no one to revive the dead. Friends and enemies alike were buried in the soil which would scarce see any change and remain as it had for thousands of years. Their bones would wither to dust before the first foundation was lain.

And here he was, returning to civilization, a hero. It wasn't the feeling he was expecting.

" _We are beginning our final approach into Fire-Country International Airport. Please return your seatbacks and tray-tables into their upright and locked positions. Upon landing, you will be required to show proof of visa and proper ID. Be sure…"_

Naruto listened to the spiel absently as it was repeated in both French and Elemental Japanese, noting the strangeness of hearing it spoken in his native tongue without noticeable accent. Before, he hadn't even noticed that they'd had an accent. It was like he was an outsider looking in. A foreigner.

But he was going home.

…

"Uzumaki. To what do I owe this visit?" He said with a small smile, not removing his eyes from the dog-eared book he was reading, some dime-novel that had probably been left in the lobby of the hospital. "Not that I don't enjoy the company, but I hardly think someone like me warrants such attention from the hero of the coalition." There was a somber amusement in his voice as he licked his unbandaged finger, reaching over to flip the page.

"You're looking good, sir. Baa-chan did a great job fixing you up." Naruto pointedly ignored the question, still thinking of himself as a soldier, not a hero.

"That she did. I wonder who I have to thank for such personal treatment." Belletriste mused accusingly as he eyed Naruto in the visitor's chair out of the corner of his eye.

"I believe someone in power is trying to make a political statement by diverting the serious casualties to the Senju Medical Group." Naruto rubbed the back of his head with fake humility. "Quite what they're saying though, I haven't the foggiest. Maybe something about cooperation? I was never good at politics." The last part he admitted bitterly.

"I see. Well then, I guess that's two favors I owe Lady Tsunade."

"I think it was Sakura-chan that fixed you up the first time."

"True enough." He set the book down gently on his lap, staring at his bandaged body with a sorrowful smile. "So you finally remember that, huh?"

"It took quite a while." Naruto admitted, scratching his whisker marks and looking at the empty corner of the room. "But yeah, I finally remembered when we first met, that day."

"I figured you would." Belletriste shrugged painfully, smiled bitterly. "To be fair, I didn't exactly look like 'myself' back then. I have your granny to thank for **that**."

He slowly and deliberately removed the thick plastic glasses from his face, dispelling the illusion with a dramatic poignancy. Naruto grimaced looking at the ravaged face which lay beneath the genjutsu, already used to such atrocities on corpses, but never on the unflappable commander whose youthful visage was one of the only saving graces for an abrasive personality.

"She did a great job, don't you think?"

"You don't look bad for a dead man."

"Indeed." He nodded seriously, looking down at the glasses he twirled between two mangled fingers. The tight flesh around his lips curled up in what might have been a smirk.

"I should have died that day. Your pink-haired teammate saved my life, and your godmother gave me back my career." He raised the unassuming eyewear to Naruto, pointing out the tiny but intricate seal on the inside brow. "She was able to reverse engineer her regenerative technique so that it would doll out chakra over a period of time, and feed from an external source kind of like a chakra battery. Enough to keep me intact, but not enough to enable the spread of the radiation cancer."

He returned the coke-bottle glasses to his head, and replaced the illusion like a mask over the slick scar tissue on his face.

"They also allow me to see again. This ended up being the prototype into chakra-based technological research including generation V night vision and optics. I worked on that for a little bit during my recovery as part of the first international cooperative." He nodded at the familiar black book Naruto had set down on the end-table, revealing how he came into possession of Jiraya's journal.

"So then, did you plan this all from the beginning?" Naruto gripped his knees, the barracks trousers losing their starched smartness as they pulled tight against his fingers. "Did you set all of us up to be under your command? Because you felt guilty for what you did back then?"

Naruto didn't really know how he felt about this revelation. He had a long time to think about it after the last battle, in the absence of urgency he allowed his mind to wander for the first time in ages. It was hard not to get lost in the conundrum that was cultural nuance. Bellestriste had taken an interest in him, and those like him for a reason he still could not comprehend. Should he be resentful or grateful? Or, perhaps, neither.

"At first. Maybe." Belletriste sighed after pausing for consideration. "Guilt certainly could have been part of it. You don't have to give me credit for all that planning, though. It was a haphazard search at best. That's why I hung around here for as long as I did after recovery, trying to search the elemental nations for you. When I couldn't find anything, I put in for a transfer from the 1ere RPIMA to the Legion, figuring that you might end up there. Well, you, or people like you.

"It could have also been curiosity. That indominable human emotion. I really can't say, I just felt a need to meet you face to face and find out what kind of person you were. All I had to go on were rumors turned into legends. I had to see for myself." He laughed, realizing the irony of looking through artificial eyes.

"Curiosity?" Naruto questioned with a hint of anger in his voice. Was he disappointed? Had he been anticipating a solid answer? Maybe he was just upset with himself for not living up to expectations.

"It's what drives the world to expand." Belletriste shrugged, acknowledging the feebleness of that excuse. "And, to shrink." He added, remembering how he ended up in the elemental nations the first time.

Naruto was upset. He was disillusioned. He didn't know why, but maybe that was part of it all. Before he could raise his voice in anger, however, the NCO interrupted him.

"I suppose I should apologize. Not for what I did back then, but for all the time I said nothing." Naruto felt himself calm slightly at this half-apology, willing to hear the man out.

"Maybe I convinced myself I was doing you a favor. Trying to give you a purpose again. But I ended up forcing my purpose upon you.

"We're two very, very different people, Naruto. I realize that acknowledging that now is rather useless, but maybe not. Maybe it's not too late for any of us. I have many answers, practical ones. But not for questions like that."

"Perhaps not." Naruto said after a deep breath, somehow placated by the man's honest words, or maybe wanting to contradict his negativity with a glimmer of hope.

"You see? That's the difference between the two of us. You can forgive a devil like me."

"You're not a devil or even a demon." Naruto said, speaking frankly.

"Hmph. Perhaps not. Just an asshole then? Either way, we can agree to disagree. That, and you don't have to do what I say anymore." He leaned over and flicked the shiny new badges on Naruto's collar, making the young man frown.

"I don't think I intend to make a career of this." He said, almost apologetically. He wasn't sorry to the bedridden man in front of him, but rather to all those he felt like he was abandoning. Friends and comrades both old and new which were no doubt relying on him to lead the way back with the rest of his unit. **His** unit, now. That was going to take some getting used to, and he wasn't sure if he liked the sound of it.

"That's your choice." Belletriste nodded. "I guess that means I'll have to get better, huh?" He patted the empty spot underneath the sheets where a leg should have been.

"You think you can manage that?" Naruto asked with a nervous smile, wondering if the man was being morbidly humorous.

"I've survived worse. Besides, if you're leaving, I'll need to assume my old job. Someone has to rally the men."

He said without sarcasm, making Naruto wonder where his confidence came from. He would believe, at least for now, that it was his own tenacious hope which had worn off on the salty commander. It would only be fair, having had a hand in tempering the hardness in the first place.

"Anyway, get out of here. You can't be hanging around dreary old men lest their pessimism rub off on you."

"You're not that old." Naruto chuckled amusedly.

"Maybe not, but why do I feel so damned ancient? Never mind. Get. Allez-vous!" He waved Naruto out with the back of his hand as he raised the same paperback with the arm in a cast.

Naruto nodded and stood up promptly as if it had been an order, saluting smartly before walking towards the sliding door. He stopped at the transept and turned around as the man seemingly went back to reading.

"Thank you, sir." He hadn't expected to say those words, nor even did he know why he was saying them now, only that it felt right.

Belletriste shook his head ruefully with a weak smirk. He set his book down again and looked at his former subordinate by the doorway.

"You're a legionnaire. You'll always be one, even if you quit now. You will never owe thanks."

He sat up straighter in the hospital bed, despite the obvious discomfort. He gave Naruto an open hand salute, puffing out his chest as much as was possible. Naruto returned the gesture before dismissing himself and closing the door. Belletriste's hand stayed up long after the door had shut.

"Vive la mort." (1)

…..

"Brat." The busty blonde smirked at him. "You don't look too bad. Almost like a real man."

"Tsunade-sama." Naruto nodded, replying to Tsunade's narrowing eyes. "You are looking well."

Naruto gave his godmother a weak smile, trying to convince the both of them that the formality was merely a jest. But the woman wasn't buying it, and sighed deeply, sweeping the at attention young man in her strong grip and ushering him down the hallway so they could walk and talk.

"Come, come, what's with that now? I'm no longer Hokage, remember? Or did you lose that fact in you thick skull?"

Naruto frowned, doing his best to fall back into the easy repartee he once held with his adopted grandmother. To tell the truth, he had been dreading this eventuality, and was actually grateful he hadn't run into any other of his past associates thus far. But being at the hospital, it was impossible to avoid this one.

"Sorry… Baa-chan, I guess I'm just not used to civilian life quite yet." He scratched the back of his head while putting on a clearly forced smile. Tsunade just sighed deeply and squeezed her godson harder, as if to prevent him from leaving again.

"You put in your request for discharge though, right? You know that the Elemental Nations are making an effort to welcome back ex-patriots now."

Naruto froze up at that bit of info.

"No, I didn't hear about that. When did it start?"

Sighing at once again being dragged into a political conversation, Tsunade let go of Naruto but continued to lead the two of them to her office for a much-needed glass of sake.

"Not too long ago. About the time it looked like the war if Afghanistan was wrapping up. The United States is still maintaining a monopoly on Iraq and the rest of the Middle East is looking pretty calm after what you did, so it doesn't look like there's going to be a whole lot of work for the foreign armies anytime soon." At least, that was the public stance on the matter, and Tsunade was neither privy to the political talks or interested in getting herself involved again.

Naruto gained a serious air as he contemplated the ramifications, his short military career not allowing him to take this with a grain of salt. Especially not after his conversations with Belletriste, and the debriefings the man made him attend. He was forced to imagine the worse-case scenario, and it appeared grim.

"What's the central government been doing?" Naruto asked, trying not to betray his curiosity. "Last I heard, they were having problems with unemployment and dissidence." The word seemed so strange in that context. To him it meant enemy. Did the government really think of their own people like that?

The former Hokage narrowed her eyes, not unaware of where Naruto was trying to lead her.

"Recently there's been an uptick in productivity, mostly due to government-sanctioned projects like the United National Railway and the big agricultural reform bill. Where they're getting the funds for this, I have no idea." She finished conspiratorially, and Naruto picked up on that subtlety.

"Deep government loans? Who's willing to fund the EN? The Daimyo aren't finally going to start giving a damn, are they?" Tsunade shook her head.

"That's the question, isn't it? But I think the more important thing is to ask what the lenders are going to want in return. Kami knows we can't pay them back with crops, and geological surveys are taking an outrageously long time without LIDAR2, foreign planes still aren't allowed to fly over our airspace, and so mineral resources are still being hand-mapped and extracted. Not to mention the lack of mining and other equipment. We're being hampered by our xenophobic policies."

Tsunade grumbled as she gestured to a couple of complex diagnostic machines they were passing the hallway. "We're still having to import most electronics from the more developed nations. We can't even begin to modernize ourselves and we're already looking to hire back hundreds of ninja who don't know how to anything but kill- uh, I mean, no offense, Naruto."

But Naruto was too busy parsing out his own thoughts to pay attention to the offhand slight at frontline fighters like him. He was too preoccupied trying to wrap his neophyte brain around what was happening in his home country ever since he became embroiled in a foreign conflict.

"Naruto?"

"Hm? Oh, sorry Baa-chan."

Despite the worried look on his godmother's face, the unconscious address made her smile again.

"You doing alright, brat?"

"Yeah, fine. Actually though, I think I'm going to have to take a raincheck on that drink." He said as he abruptly and broke away from his fellow blonde, taking a turn down an adjacent hallway. "I promise I'll regale you with all my tales of adventure later!" He called out to her as he jogged away.

"You better! I'm holding you to that as a promise!" She called out to him as he saluted her casually, disappearing around another corner.

"Damned brat…"

….

After he was sure Tsunade wasn't following him, Naruto slowed his jog and came to stop in a darkened dead-end hallway, staring at the unnamed doorway illuminated by a single fluorescent bulb.

"What do you want, Danzo?"

"I see your vacation hasn't dulled your senses any." The hoarse voice emerged with the black-swathed figure out of the shadows. Naruto scoffed.

"Nah, you're just getting old." He turned to face the man with a venomous glint in his steely blue eyes. "And careless, apparently."

Dazno just nodded, surprisingly. Ignoring, or perhaps agreeing with this assessment. Naruto stiffened at the unexpected reaction asking:

"What do you want, old man?"

"The same thing I have always wanted. The same thing you want now too." Used to the circuitous talk after three years of it under the military complex, Naruto decided to humor the man, nodding cautiously.

"Go on."

…

"It's very nice to see you again, Naruto." Terumi Mei drawled coyly from her intimidating position, planted behind a substantial wooden desk that was merely a thick vertical section of tree-trunk given varnish.

"An honor, Prime Minister. It's nice to know how many people seem to remember me from the old days." Naruto replied, not relaxing from his formal stance, hands clasped behind his back in front of the former Kage.

"Oh come now, Naruto-kun, no need to be so formal. That isn't like you. Aren't we more than just acquaintances by now? Besides, isn't that how things are outside of the Shinobi Nations? We can't let ourselves keep getting burdened by these antiquated practices."

"I'm starting to learn the advantage of political obfuscations when dealing with people I don't like."

Was what Naruto wanted to say. But he still forgot words like 'obfuscations', and despite being able to read through the lines of other people's words he still could not figure out how to phrase that political doublespeak to his own advantage. And so, he kept his mouth tightly shut and gave the woman a curt nod which could have meant anything.

But he couldn't hide the animosity on his face, and so he didn't even try. It was true that they had been more than mere comrades before the end of the Fourth Shinobi War, but whatever ties of friendship they had wove had been severed by what he now knew.

Mei looked decidedly put out, realizing that Naruto was not going to play ball. Had she really been hoping that his 'private audience' might have been for something more risqué? She had granted it to him regardless, based on his heroism in the Elemental Nations, but she was honestly looking forward to this get-together before getting sight of his serious expression.

She could ignore his impertinence, and continue to toy with him as was her usual want. But she had been serious before, about the need to reform, and prolonging this confrontation would only serve to make Naruto more confrontational.

"So what can I do for you, Corporal Uzumaki?" Her smile was half-hearted as she leaned back in her chair with arms steepled.

"Why did you do it, Mei?" She couldn't help but flinch at the disappointment rampant throughout his question.

"Oh, so now we're on a first name basis?" She covered up her own sadness with indignation. "You're going to have to be more specific, too. I have a lot of people who are pretty upset with me these days over one thing or another."

"You know what I mean," His hands wrenched each other painfully behind his back, keeping him from lashing out as he might have done just a few years ago. "Why did you allow weapons to be smuggled over your borders?"

"I didn't allow them to be smuggled. I facilitated it."

Naruto was taken aback by the blasé admission of guilt, so much so that he let his mouth hang open, very much a gawking teenager and not the hardened soldier he needed to be.

"Why?" He finally managed out.

Mei sighed and stood up, pushing her chair back and walking over to the wall-length windows which overlooked the bay of mist country. The sun was out for a rare occasion.

"You made it perfectly clear that despite all of your bravado about becoming Hokage, you clearly were not cut out for a leadership position. So I'm not sure explaining it would do any good."

"Try me." Naruto's sorrow quickly bled to anger at being lectured so pedantically.

"Very well. Despite you traipsing about the outside world for the last three and a half years, you must have heard at least a _little_ about what has been going on in your home country." She wasn't looking at him, but still saw his guilty look in the reflection. She waited for him to nod and then continued.

"The people have been suffering. Despite the influx of technological and humanitarian aid in the beginning, all of that has dried up and we are left off in a worse position than before. Now people expect a higher living standard, and we have no way to give it to them. We don't have the technology to keep up with the rest of the world, and because of that, they treat us like the other third-world nations." She turned around to face him again, and he felt himself flinch at the bitter dullness in her normally gem-like eye.

"They wouldn't exactly be wrong. The only advantage we have over them is tourism, and even that is drying up as more and more countries regard us as a dangerous place to visit, with the legions of jobless ex-shinobi roaming the streets looking for a way to survive."

"So why can't you put them to work? Why can't you have people make jobs for people with their skillsets?" Naruto didn't understand why it couldn't be done when even the foreign armies managed to integrate them in their forces.

"There's too much internal bickering, and simply not enough funds to get it done." She shook her head ruefully. "I admit, that's what we **should** be doing, and what is just starting to happen. But in order to train our people and get the necessary equipment, we need a way of making money. The only business we know is war. And when the offer came, along with the substantial payout, I would have been neglecting my duty had I refused."

Now Mei's voice was escalating in volume, and she was once again glad of the privacy seals permanently affixed to the large doorway. She didn't know why she was getting so emotional defending her actions, but that sort of thing tended to happen around Uzumaki Naruto.

"What would you have had me do?" She questioned him before he could refute her previous point. "Had I refused the job, more people would have starved and your precious Konoha would have devolved into anarchy with people competing for basic resources."

Again, Naruto looked ready to deny this claim vehemently. But with his experience in the outside world, he had become less jaded to the truth about human nature.

"As it stands, we were given a generous amount to smuggle the weapons over the border and arm the rebels. We even got to keep a lot of the arsenal as part of the deal. So now, not only do we have a seed to start revitalizing the nations to modern standards, we once again have a military which is the equal, if not greater than any other in the world."

"Some of those 'rebels' were your own people, and the ones they were fighting were also born here!"

The way she talked about the conflict just a few hundred kilometers away like it was on another planet struck a nerve in Naruto. Not only because he lost friends to these 'rebels' but because he'd had to kill some of these people himself, perpetuating the insanity which plagued the Elemental Nations before exposure to the World at large.

"Just because they were born here doesn't make them our concern." Mei said coldly, eyeing Naruto with a freezing gaze despite the room which shot up a few degrees as her bloodline was unknowingly released. "They're no longer our citizens. Just like you are, Uzumaki."

She was just about ready to show him to the door, aware that things could escalate out of hand very rapidly, and no matter how foolish it would be to make an enemy out of Naruto, neither could she afford the political fallout that would come with a battle in her office.

But before she could even reach the call button on her desk, his hand grabbed her wrist tightly, unbidden by the intense heat it was giving off. Her eyes widened even as steam rose from the contact.

"What are you-!?"

"You can't say that they aren't your problem." Naruto spoke calmly, but firmly, making her stop struggling against his improbably strong grip. It didn't take that much convincing, either. She never knew the young man was capable of moving that fast. "You're exporting our issues to other countries and you can't do that. Part of belonging in the world is being concerned about the rest of it. You can't affect one country without having it effect you in return."

Kind of like how the Legion affected him. He would like to believe that he made his mark on it in return.

"Let me go."

His piece said, Naruto did as asked and released her wrist. Stepping back, he raised his hands peacefully, inadvertently showing his palm which had suffered no ill-effect from touching the molten flesh. He fully expected her to call for her guards and have him arrested, where he would be at best court-martialed and at worst thrown into the Elemental Nation's still infamous Blood Prison.

But she didn't. She just looked down at her unmarked wrist and rubbed it in wonder, perhaps aware of her own lapse in self-control. And maybe, just whether holding herself back had been worth it. Things had been so much simpler in the days when might made right. But did they really want to go back to that?

"How did you find out?" She asked after a period of silence.

"Danzo told me." He admitted with a small smile at the absurdity of it.

"And you believed him? That's probably the most shocking thing today." She laughed dully, and Naruto mimicked the gesture.

"Yeah, he and I don't usually see eye to eye. But in this case, he brought up a pretty convincing argument that just sounded like his sort of motivation."

"And that is?"

"We need to be strong on our own. He's upset with what's happening to Konoha, and I don't blame him. We both believe that our people need to be independent, or at least, not reliant on the outside world. While I wouldn't put it past him to be the one to do something underhanded like arms-smuggling, he seems to be looking more long-term than either you or I."

"Ironic. He probably won't even see out the decade, so what does he care what happens to us? The Konoha of his time is long dead and gone."

Naruto frowned, unable to deny this, and ignoring what might have been a veiled threat at the old war-monger. He himself had yet to lay eyes upon his hometown since leaving Afghanistan, the hospital complexes lay outside what was once the maximum boundaries of the village. The new sprawling urban development could be seen from the airport, and he had avoided looking down on the 'Village' from the plane. It was already changing when he had left, and he didn't think he'd like what it had turned into.

"Say what you want about Danzo. I can't blame you for hating him, as I'm not too fond of him myself. But don't deny that he holds concern for what happens to the people here. He may be an old codger, but maybe he's the only one of us looking ahead to a future, not concerned about where he fits in it."

Naruto smiled, thinking about how truly ironic it was. Maybe that was Danzo's secret, though. He didn't have to worry about becoming obsolete, and so could pave the way for a new generation without concern about his own relevancy.

Mei saw the far-off look in Naruto's eyes and sighed, leaning against the sturdy desk.

"I'd like to think things were easier back then, despite everything. It was always kill or be killed, and the only one who didn't seem to know that was you."

"The good old days?" Naruto drawled with a cocked eyebrow.

"I suppose so."

"There were never any 'good old days'." Naruto shoved his hands in his pockets, the gesture which once felt so familiar in his shinobi youth, now ingrained in his soldering mind to be a blasphemy. Yet he wasn't either any more. "It's just a stupid thing we say. There's today, and there's tomorrow." He turned to go, ignoring the curious look on the Prime Minister's face.

"That's it?" She asked, once again taken aback by the lack of contention, the simple way he dismissed her instead of arguing stubbornly.

"I didn't come here to tell you how to do your job." Naruto said, facing the large double-doors, the wooden carving depicting a scene from the Third Shinobi War. He came face to face with the likeness of his father as the man stood proud in front of a ninja army. "I came here to have a question answered, and you did that gratefully, Prime Minister." He nodded over his shoulder before he began to press on the door.

"What will you do now?" She asked as the hinges creaked. Maybe she lost the right, but she still felt some concern for the young man she once fancied as a brother, a child, a hero, a lover.

He turned back around and gave her a wide smile, the closest thing he had come to his previous demeanor in a long time.

"What I should have been doing all along."

…

Temari walked out of the hospital, a free woman. But alone.

Gaara had been kind enough to see his big sister during her recovery, but Kankuro was still not talking to her and pointedly keeping his distance when forced to be in her company. She couldn't blame him. At once still convinced that what she had done was right, she also felt a significant shame when her ruse was revealed. She never expected forgiveness, not from her family and certainly not from the Elemental government who sued for her release shortly after the battle of Wakahm Corridor. She suspected her brother had something to do with that, but the stoic redhead revealed nothing but concern in his visits.

The questions of where to go and what to do entered her mind, but she couldn't think of a good answer. She couldn't even decide if she was hungry, despite eating next to nothing for days. She just felt like she had to keep going, and so she walked out the front door and into the glorious day which had no right to be so beautiful.

"Hey."

Amidst the cacophony of sounds and sights bombarding her from every angle, the greeting was singled out in her mind and her paranoid reflexes made her jump.

"N-Naruto?" She asked incredulously, as if this might be some specter here to haunt her for her sins. But like the day, it was too bright and cheerful to be her eternal tormentor.

"In the flesh." He replied cheekily as if reading her expression.

She was still wary of this stranger, his smart fatigues still invoking the concept of 'enemy'. It would be a long time before she could differentiate the two.

But Naruto didn't seem to think that way, even as he swept over her darkly tanned face and ragged hair, he only seemed to be looking at her eyes. She suddenly felt distinctly uncomfortable under his inspection, and rubbed the arm of her hospital smock embarrassingly. She almost missed the anonymity of the shalwar kameez and shemagh, but right now would even settle for being naked if only she had a veil to cover up her true shame.

"Temari,"

Still, when he called her name she looked at him, both bitter that he could command her attention so, and ashamed at his genuine-sounding concern.

"What do you want?" The part of her which was still a prisoner of war bit out, making her other part wince.

"I just want to talk, to an old friend." He took a step forward but frowned when she took a step back.

She was like a spooked cat, ready to gore him if he came closer.

"Friend? How can you- how _dare_ you consider me your friend after all-?"

She wanted to hit him. She wanted to kill him. How could he act so altruistic and righteous after everything that he did? After everything that she did? What gave him the right to be so forgiving when she couldn't forgive herself?

Temari was swiftly raising her voice and with their place just outside the hospital main entrance, it was clear they were causing a scene. But Naruto didn't care. The only concern on his mind was making sure Temari didn't feel cornered. He took another step closer to her, his arms held palm-out by his sides.

*Wham!*

Naruto crumpled to the ground as Temari hit him with a panicked left-cross. Immediately her face became as shocked as the rest of the onlookers and she seemed to come to her senses and realize what she had done. Part of her was panicking, and was preparing to run while that other half wanted to stay and help Naruto to his feet.

The decision was made for her as Naruto sat up, still smiling brightly at her despite his cartoonishly swollen cheek.

"Now that you got that out of your system, can we talk now?"

…

"You killed a lot of my friends, you know."

Temari flinched and held herself reflexively as Naruto offhandedly reminded her that she was the 'bad guy'.

They had ended up in a park, not too far away from the Fire Country's general hospital. She had been sent there because it was the closest in proximity to the international airport, and because with Tsunade Senjuu running it, it was still the best in the whole region. IT still felt strange being treated like a normal patient, and not a prisoner.

Though it seemed like they wandered there, Naruto had steered them subtly, knowing that Temari might be very shy of crowds. Though hardly anyone had payed attention to the happenings outside of there sheltered existence, and fewer would know of her involvement on the losing side of the recent conflict.

"This was my first unit picture." Naruto said wistfully as he pulled out a folded 8 x10 photograph, handing the wrinkled image to her. She didn't want to look at first, but eventually forced herself to take in the smiling and confident faces lined up next to one another in full combat gear in a mountainous area Temari tried to convince herself looked familiar.

"Out of those 36, I think 7 are still alive." Temari didn't know how she felt about that, but quickly handed the picture back to Naruto, lest she slip and tear it.

"You think?" She asked with clenched teeth, anger and sadness indistinguishable. Naruto nodded.

"Yeah, a few are MIA, but they might have gone AWOL or switched sides and got lost with the body count." He gave a dead laugh and shook his head. "The strange thing is… I don't even remember half their names." She stilled her anger and looked at him, questioning this strange admission.

"We were supposed to be brothers in arms, comrades, and yet I hardly even knew their faces. Even the ones which eventually came from the Elemental Nations, I would have a hard time if you asked me for details. I suppose that I can't really call them friends then, huh? Not like Sasuke and Sakura. I trusted them enough to fight and die by their sides, but none of us stopped to ask what we were fighting for. So now I ask what…" She continued to watch him as his unblinking eyes began to water. "…what _was_ it all for?"

Two tears ran down his cheeks as he stared at the photograph of dead people. But he limited himself to these two indulgences, because he promised he wouldn't shed any more.

"You…" Temari began and Naruto wiped his eyes with his wrist before looking at her. "You killed a lot of my comrades as well." She ended, feeling fairly pathetic.

"Yeah, I did." He nodded, folding the picture and reverently putting it back in his breast pocket.

The two sat in that all-too cheerful park, watching the children play and couples walk by without a care. Neither knew what to say, but could at least understand one another better than the hundreds of people around them who were oblivious to the strife the rest of the world went through daily.

"Can we…" Naruto ventured, breaking the prolonged silence. "Can we try to move on, though?"

"How?" Temari sighed, running her hand through her short, dusty-blonde hair which was just beginning to regrow after being buzzed during her short stay in prison.

"How do we go from being… whatever we are. I'm not even talking about enemies. I mean soldiers. Fighters. Shinobi. Killers." She hugged herself, not knowing what her hands might wish to do otherwise. "Being a kunochi back home was important. Being a strong one was even more so, because it gave me protection, rights. Even today in every place I've seen women are treated as second-class citizens. Even if things change… and I admit that they seem to be. Even if they do, how do I stop thinking like that? How do I become a person in a world where I don't think I'll ever fit in?"

Naruto smiled and turned on the bench to face her.

"When people join the French Foreign Legion, they resign their name. After their time in service, they get to pick a new name to be on their passport, and that's what they go by from then on." Temari listened patiently while her fellow blond seemingly went off on a tangent.

"It may seem just like a formality, or maybe just symbolic, but I think there's something more fundamental about it. Even if it is just a symbol, I think it's a nice one. Giving yourself the chance to start over. Ending whatever mistakes you made in the past, and starting afresh."

"Easy as that?" She scoffed pessimisticly.

"Easy as that." He nodded with a reassuring smile.

"But you can't just forget who you were and what you have done." She insisted, feeling a wellspring of emotions begin to boil in her throat. "That's a disgrace to everyone who knew you, everyone you helped and hurt."

Naruto took her almost frantic denial with a small but unflappable smile. So unlike the one he had worn as a child, and yet undeniably his.

"Not if you do it right. Here, let me show you: Hi, I'm Uzumaki Naruto, person. Nice to meet you."

Despite the deluge of sorrow and acrimony which had all but drowned them when they had confronted it, this unburdened answer made her laugh uncontrollably. It might have looked like she was insane, but then again, maybe she was. Maybe they all were.

Her laughter was infectious, and Naruto was soon swept up as well, already realizing the morbid hilarity of it all.

When they both calmed down, Temari noticed that his hand was still outstretched, and he looked expectantly into her eyes. She easily intertwined her hand in his.

"I'm Sabaku no Temari. Hajime Mashite."

"Enchente."

….

" _Continuing the series of startling news coming out of the Middle and Central East, the Elemental Nations have made their first major extension to a country outside their borders. This afternoon, meeting in the historic city of Samarkand in neighboring Uzbekistan, the Prime Ministers of the EN and Afghanistan met and discussed mutually beneficial trade agreements, expanding on individual enterprises already underway in both countries which promise to revitalize both economies and infrastructures._

" _For those of you skeptical about this deal, you are certainly have justification. This region has long since been a hotbed of conflict, civil wars within the Elemental Countries stretching back hundreds of years and a not much better track record for Afghanistan. And neither country has ever been successfully conquered by an outside power, so this could end up being the most formidable alliance since the Axis powers if left unchecked. Though whether it is dangerous for the parties involved, or for the world at large, remains to be seen._

" _Allegations of illegal arms shipments coming out of the EN are still left unanswered, although it is rumored that after this newest treaty is ratified, the current Prime Minister of the EN will step down in response to the allegations. A sudden and startling move, but keeping in line with a long tradition of silence and duty that is without a doubt, characteristically 'shinobi'."_

…

" _We are here, live, on the border between Tajikistan and the Elemental Nations, where the situation continues to deteriorate. Federal Russian troops have already been deployed with the permission of the Tajik government across their country, and have set themselves up just on the other side of the border. You can see their encampment just over the far ridgeline there._

" _The United Nations has already issued a referendum for a multinational peacekeeping force to be deployed to the border with the Earth Country. As usual, elements of the French Foreign Legion are some of the first on site besides the local defense force. Whether or not this will turn into a full-scale invasion remains to be seen._

" _We are luck to be able to ask this question to a professional soldier, Major Michele Belletriste of the French Foreign Legion's 1_ _st_ _Parachute Regiment. He is a veteran of Afghanistan, as well as the Battle of First Contact, and so is intimately familiar with the EN and no stranger to combat. Major, can you explain to us the situation?"_

" _I'll do my best, but naturally as a soldier my opinion will be biased to what I can see in front of me. The Russians are upset at the expansion of the treaty between Afghanistan and the EN now including several other surrounding Nations which are historically Russian turf: Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan and Azerbaijan are all looking to get in on this deal, and that's making the Russians nervous. They also have the backing of the Chinese because of rumors Mongolia is seeking the EN's help in independence."_

" _I see. What about the Russian President's declaration that this move is in response to the EN illegally smuggling Federal Russian property across the border to Afghanistan during the war? You were there, does this statement have any validity?"_

" _Perhaps, but I highly doubt the Russians would let anything like that happen without their consent. As I said, they are scared at the rapid expansion of a country which, 20 years ago, wasn't even on the map. Whatever the truth may be, the Elemental Nations are certainly changing the power dynamic in the region."_

" _So, are you prepared to fight against the Russians should an invasion actually take place? Wouldn't that have the potential to kick off WWIII?"_

" _The Legion is always ready to fight. Make no mistake. However, under the UN mandate we are here strictly on an advisory and humanitarian basis. A show of support, if you will, to our allies."_

" _How is this different than the policy that was so heavily criticized in the Congo? Many people still blame the UN negligence for the genocide that happened there (3)?"_

" _Because, madam, we are not in the Congo. This isn't a civil war, and the Elemental Nations are fully capable of defending themselves. As I said, this is a show of support, to dissuade the situation from every getting to the point of conflict."_

" _Forgive me, but do you really have confidence that this will work? The Russians are showing an extremely aggressive stance here, and to the rest of the world, things look pretty grim."_

" _Perhaps. Call me sentimental, but I believe that someday our offspring will look back on us and say that this was our finest hour (4), where we stood on the brink of destruction and managed to walk away. Humanity survived the Cold War intact, and I feel this will be no different. We are entering a time where the rules are different, and if the Russians can't realize this, then they have already lost the battle."_

" _That's quite the optimistic attitude. What gives you this confidence? Is it because you survived such a debilitating injury and yet have gone back to the battlefield?"_

" _What? Oh, the leg *laughs*, madam, I have suffered far worse than this, and I have this country to thank for getting me back on my feet."_

" _You must have had quite a difficult career, and yet you still manage to keep such a great attitude. How is that?"_

" _As I said, I have this wonderful country to thank for setting me upright. Not just with their state-of-the-art prosthetics, but there is also something very inspiring about the people and their ways. Something that makes you have the utmost confidence in what they are doing, and faith for the world in general."_

" _That's a lot of faith to have against something so dire."_

" _I'm not arguing there. But that's why we're here. To let them know they're not doing this alone."_

" _I guess only time will tell. Thank you very much, Major."_

… _.._

"… _With the end of what is coming to be known as 'The Bloodless Wars', the Prime Minister of the Elemental Nations, Sabaku no Gaara issued this simple statement:"_

"' _We never had anything but confidence that we would succeed. Our history is admittedly one of bloodshed, my own not exempt from this generality. Thus, I think it is important to be the ones taking the fist step towards a universally peaceful response to violence.'"_

" _Though declining to comment further, his advisors did commend specific individuals within the ranks of both the UN Intervention and Interdiction Force as well as their own 'Negotiators team'._

" _There is still very little information available outside the country on one of these individuals mentioned, one Naruto_ _Uzumaki, who, as rumor has it, single handedly diffused a potentially bloody standoff between soldiers of the UNIIF and a Russian first-strike battalion. Some cultural experts theorize that this is the same former shinobi who also personally brought the last Civil War to a close. Although there is still much disagreement._

" _Further intrigue with this character resides in the low-key public statement made yesterday that he is now engaged to the Prime Minister's elder sister. The country-wide festivity which falls within the wake of celebration of the signing of the non-aggression pact, is sure to be a one-in-a-lifetime spectacular, and we here in the west can't help but wonder what sort of back-alley dealings are really behind this 'political alliance'._

" _As we have learned with watching the EN, nothing is ever simple, and dark controversy still revolves around the betrothed. Some have accused Sabaku no Temari of terrorist actions during the Afghan war, although nothing can yet be confirmed-"_

…

"Hey! Why'd you turn it off?"

The redhead shot her partner a skeptical look.

"Were you really watching that?"

"Kind of." Karui's eyebrow arched further into her bandana. "Okay, not really." Tenten sighed as she flopped down into her wicker chair, whipping the sweat from her brow.

"I just liked the part where they were talking about Naruto and Temari's wedding. I thought it was sweet."

Karui feigned gagging until Tenten whipped out a kunai, brandishing it menacingly.

"Better than sitting in a marsh of our own sweat, I guess." Karui accepted after a while, still relishing the relative quiet which came with shutting off the boob-tube.

Relative, because the jungle outside was still a symphony of noise, parakeets and macaws, and all manner of primates each shrieking at one another incessantly, all under the shroud of an unbearably oppressive wet heat.

"Ugh, why did we sign up for this again?" Karui lamented, throwing herself into a seat next to Tenten, between the woman and the ancient fan which was the only source of air in the room.

"Because," Tenten growled, crawling over her partner to angle the fan so that it blew exclusively on her. "we thought it would be a good idea to make non-com so we got some kind of pension. And then when we were done, we could retire to somewhere in South America where it was cheap and warm."

"Oh yeah…" Karui wondered aloud. "But why here, again? I like the heat, but it's…" She glanced at the aging mercury thermometer on the wall next to the empty window. "41 degrees (5). Ugh."

"Don't forget the humidity." Tenten quipped, ignoring the sweat as it dripped down her brow while she leaned over in concentration, cleaning her weapon for the umpteenth time.

"I didn't. Which is why I ask, why did we transfer here again?"

"Beats me."

"Commanders!" A face which was even sweatier than theirs appeared in the windowless sill.

"What?" The easily aggravated redhead groused.

"Uh, the unit has completed the jungle course." The swarthy man answered.

"Already? Excellent!" Karui stood up abruptly, managing to look imposing despite the revealing nature of her issue tropical uniform. "Then you may do it again!"

"Again? But commander-" The man flinched, but experience taught him not to flinch too much as his dark-skinned cheek was grazed by an incredibly sharp blade thrown by the other officer faster than he could see.

"Again."

"Y-yes, aright. I mean, yes sir!"

Karui watched the recruit flee from their hut as fast as he could to deliver the 'good news' to his class. She smirked lightly watching the as the group mimed complaints and curses at their fellow would-be legionnaire.

"Do you think it's a little unfair to ask them to do it again? I mean, most of them are just average humans." She asked after a while, still watching the group of tired men and woman trudge into the jungle.

"Do you want to do it with them?" Tenten asked, having moved on from firearms to her blades.

"It would be fair, and probably inspire them." The brunette arched an eyebrow at this sympathetic outlook, and Karui turned to meet a look of incredulity.

"Nah, you're right." She planted herself in her usual space next to Tenten, hooking the preoccupied woman under her arm. "Such is the benefit of experience." She let go when threatened with numerous pointy implements that Tenten extracted from god-knew-where.

Sighing with both exasperation and contentment, Karui picked the remote back up off the rough wood floor and pointed it at the tiny square box suspended in the corner.

"Let's see what's on next."

….

(1) Can either mean 'long live the dead', or sometimes more literally 'long live death'. It's also part of a rhyme which follows:

Vive la mort,

Vive la Guerre,

Vive la sacre legionnaire

(2) LIDAR is like Radar with light waves, and they can see through treetops and other obstacles. It exists today, but is super expensive because you have to fly a plane over the area you want to look at, and in this situation the Elemental Nations don't want foreign aircraft over their airspace, for obvious reasons.

(3) The 1994-5 Rwandan genocide (there were others, but this is the one that people remember). The UN were criticized because they had such strict rules of engagement, they were practically useless. The French mission which was separate from the UN, also got criticized for letting a lot of genocidaires escape into Congo and Burundi along with Refugees.

(4) Reference to Winston Churchill's speech of the same title.

(5) 105 F, and in French Guiana, also like 99% humidity. Eew.

* * *

 **So wait... that's it? Abrupt ending I know. But the truth is that I had something like this planned from the beginning. This wasn't designed to be an epic length (like my other stories) and that's probably for the best. This was designed originally as a purge for my ideas more fleshed out than a oneshot. But in the course of writing it, I have been reinvigorated with new ideas that beg me to use them, so don't be surprised if there is a similar story sometime in the future. I consider this a rough draft, as I do everything else in my life. Thankfully with this I get a second chance. So for those scant few who made it this far, and for the even fewer who are reading this, thanks for sticking with me and I'll see you in the near future.**


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